


Tal Kost

by gresniandjeo29



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Qunari, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gresniandjeo29/pseuds/gresniandjeo29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few ideas of my own crammed into the vast Bioware world. My female character Grey Hawke takes center stage as an aspirant to the Qun. Caught in a set of circumstances in which she knows only responsibility and obligation, Grey struggles to find purpose and certainty. In a single encounter with the Arishok, her world and destiny begin to shift. Where I take it from there is anybody's guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Circe80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circe80/gifts).



> This is my very first fanfiction intended as a massive one shot, though I may revisit it later. It is un-beta-ed and while I follow the canon sometimes, it is largely AU. I just wanted to explore my own love of Bioware's creation, the Qunari Arishok and my own semi-creation of Grey Hawke. There is explicit sexual content. I own nothing, Bioware owns everything...including pieces of my heart. Enjoy!

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

"Kadan." It was a word he breathed. Her scent had filled his tent while she had awaited him and had hit him hard as he pulled open the flap to enter. His eyes quickly adjusted to the comparative darkness within and caught her in their gaze. She was still wrapped in the red ceremonial garb, kneeling in silence at the foot of the pallet, black hair streaming heavily over one shoulder. Her eyes were a deep murky green, he knew, but they were downcast, her face relaxed but solemn. She had performed the ritual. And so much more. She had been instructed. He entered and advanced.

  
She had never flinched before him and she did not flinch now. He knelt facing her with his knees splayed and catching her behind her own, he dragged her to him to kneel between his legs. There, he breathed her breath, his fingers catching stray hairs as they laced their way to cradle her skull, drawing her forehead to his. She sighed then and he felt her tension melt away. He allowed them both the peace of this moment. He could not say for her, but he knew for his own part that he had waited years for this, and the consequence was plain. He was ready for her.

  
"Do you know the meaning of Tal Kost?" he asked, rolling his forehead against hers as he had once, years ago.

  
"It means, 'true peace'," she replied, her voice small and distant, as if waking from a deep sleep.

  
"That is a translation," he replied, his bass voice slurring to a low rumble. Inebriation came easily at such close range. The years dampened nothing. The reaction remained; a state that would be as long as being. "Do you remember what you said that night in Kirkwall when I pulled you close to me thus?"

  
She pulled back for a moment, understanding written in wide irises. "The absence of questions," she whispered, before immediately returning her forehead to his embrace.

  
"Just so," he murmured, nuzzling against her small nose, as he had on that night. Sighing, he released her. "Let us speak, Kadan." Was that reluctance to leave his embrace that he read on her? She was not shy to speak. He released her head, his hands dropping to her thighs to prevent retreat.

  
"What instruction did you receive from the Ariqun regarding the ceremony, the nature of our bond and that which is expected of us both?" he asked.

  
"The ceremony was an acknowledgment of Tal Kost by the Ariqun. It announces to all under the Qun the nature of our bond. We will cohabitate and procreate bound to and in accordance with the demands of the Qun."

  
"Yes." Her assessment, while accurate, came dry as dust to him, and it did not show depth of understanding for the gravity of what had occurred. She was Viddithari. She knew the Qunari did not mate for life, but bred as the Qun demanded. She was a member of the Ben Hassreth, she lived under the Ariqun--a priestess in some sense. Her devotion, however, was not in question. She went on.

  
"No Qunari has experienced Tal Kost in living memory, which is one reason public acknowledgment is so serious. The experience has been documented in the histories and since it is considered highly spiritual in nature, it is rare that any outside of the Ariqun have known it and...", she paused,"...it has never occurred with one born outside of the Qun. We cohabitate in order to delve further into a spiritual realm, an unending meditation."

  
Satisfied, he replied,"It has not occurred in hundreds of years and only once in history has it been experienced by an Arishok. Among your people, they would call you my wife. This would be a gross understatement of what you are." He allowed his hands to wander in soothing motions. "And of the mating?"

  
She blushed. His hands, of their own accord, immediately chased the color as it appeared on her cheeks, a soft pink that warmed his fingers. She did not balk at the question. "They have said it is little different anatomically from human mating and that I am to submit to you as much as possible."

  
He laughed then, a startling bark that she had never heard before. "Yes. That explanation might be sufficient for one born under the Qun, one who had grown with our ways." He gently gripped her face, eyes once more captivated by hers, so alien...so beautiful. "For a female to submit in the context of mating in your tongue would be better translated as,'finding release,' or, 'climax'." The skin beneath his hands heated again accompanied by her own laugh, a quiet music to his ears. His response to her was getting stronger every second spent in close proximity. He found himself nuzzling and biting at her neck, drawing a gasp from her. Trying to summon control by a deep breath, he caught the scent of her arousal. Dragging his mouth from her throat, he looked at her. His eyes, glowing yellow, reflected back at him through hers.

  
He was stunned. In all the time that he had known what she was to him, waiting as she proved herself before the Qun, waiting for her conversion, training and confirmation of Tal Kost, never had he found any evidence that she might desire him. And it had not been necessary...but it was welcome.

 

"What else?" he mumbled, still stunned by the manner in which she had unwittingly honored him.

  
"They mentioned a lock...that we, our bodies will lock together..."her voice trailed off.

  
He sighed. She knew enough to continue. As it was, her scent and her presence were robbing him of words. His mind was becoming addled and blank for further explanations. Pressing his head to hers once more, nosing her delicate profile as before, he growled," Your role in this is submission as I have explained it. My role to assist you is also clear." He continued to nuzzle, letting the fever of his want slowly take him. The whisper of her lips across his sent his thoughts adrift as he gave himself over to every sense, silently learning her.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

 

 _He is studying me...he is learning how I want to be kissed_. Her mind was spinning, but it had been spinning since she had seen the back of him in Kirkwall. All she had known since had been winning the city, fulfilling the demand of the Qun to buy her freedom. His tongue swept over hers with a startling sensuality, his mouth sucking hotly on her lower lip. _He learns fast_. She had never had a... _'lover_?'...who had been so focused and attuned to her reaction. It felt strange and foreign, but it did not feel wrong. It was exciting. _Incredibly exciting_. Just as she was wondering if he was taking any pleasure in the act, a low moan slid from his throat into their kiss, and she eagerly devoured the sound.

  
Abruptly, he broke away, his breathing heavy as it was when he tested himself in the fighting grounds. Large, taloned hands began to deftly pull away the layers of cloth she wore. She smiled gratefully. The "garment" had been woven around her and she knew not how to remove it. His eyes were focused on his task, unwinding and unraveling, all with alacrity, but all without haste.

  
"There is a question," he said, having freed her down to her waist, he stood her before him. glowing eyes flashing a glance to her face before trailing down her body to where he had left off.

  
"I feel...I wonder if I please you, if I give you pleasure. I know that kissing is not a practice among the qunari..."

  
He cut her off. "You are qunari, so it is a practice for me." He began to work up from the bottom. "My enjoyment of you will never be the enjoyment of the human male." He had reached her thighs. "It will never be selfish and it will always follow a duty. I am Arishok because these are the conditions under which I pursue glory and excel." He had paused. His hands were trailing from her feet up her legs. It would have been easier at this point to drag what was left down, but she knew he would unravel it all. "In Kirkwall, years ago, I found Tal Kost--I found you, by scent." He let the statement hang in the air waiting for her to understand. He enjoys kissing perhaps in tasting, but in reality, he is after my scent. Realization was beginning to dawn on her and she met his eyes with hers--they were glowing gold, even in the gathering night--and he held them as he unwove the rest of the garment, leaving her naked.

  
His hands ran over her, a curious and thorough perusal that offset the chill of the evening air on her bare skin. He wore only breeches and she thought he might remove them then, but he did not. Instead, he drew her to straddle him, pulling her legs around his waist, one hand bringing her forehead again to his just as one arm secured her against him. She blushed in the embrace as he pulled her close so her sex was flush with his abdominal muscles.

  
He must have sensed embarrassment because he spoke then. "There is no shame in this. That is Chantry indoctrination which you will, in time, overcome." He shifted and his arm tightened, grinding her pelvis against him until she dug her nails into his shoulders, sucking in breath. "There is only honor in your submission. With it, you honor me, Kadan." His mouth closed over hers and all thought was obliterated.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

 

 _It is as it has always been_ , he noted. She had always met and triumphed. She had only ever confirmed. Still, there were those who doubted. The Arigena was one. In truth, mating with her had cost his a great deal of time in research, thought and meditation. He had mated many times. As a potent male, he was often chosen for breeding and breeding on a physical level was only slightly different between their races. For a human female, she was tall, strong and well built, but skilled in stealth and speed. Next to a kossith female, she was lithe, delicate. Running his hands over her skin, he had been fascinated. She felt like the rich velvet cloth of Orlais all over, but her skin was thin compared with his. This vulnerability helped hone her skills. She played to her strengths. This was wise. Still, successful seeding required submission--especially with a potent male. He normally seeded several times in the course of mating and the duration of the act depended on the female's submission. _But this is not a female. This is Hawke._

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

 

Grey Hawke entered the Qunari compound, a hastily quartered off square on the docks of Kirkwall. The harbor smelled worse than usual today, she noted as she crossed the compound heading in the direction the gate keep had indicated. Javaris waited impatiently on the main pavilion. Dog walked proudly at her side as if he understood that his usual joyful trot would not impress the Qunari. The warrior elf Fenris and bard bent dwarf Varric followed on their heels. Isabela, the Rivainni raider had run off outside the gate without much of an explanation, and after spilling a fair amount of Tal Vashoth blood. Grey would not forget that little stunt which had left her unexpectedly shorthanded. Turning absently, her employer( _for this job anyway,_ she thought, sighing), caught sight of her. “Ah, my right hand arrives.” She chose not to disagree with the Dwarven merchant. “Summon your Arishok. The bargain is done.”

  
She heard his advance in slow, deliberate footfalls and the heavy swish of leather before the Qunari leader came into view. Her dark green eyes widened slightly as she took him in. The Qunari were often referred to by Kirkwallers as “horn-heads”, “ox-men”, and occasionally “giants.” The Arishok’s metallic skin, liberally painted with intricate designs in red, gleamed and rippled over chiseled muscle and bone alike, two clusters of doubled horns crowned silvery hair, but this “horn-head giant” towered over even his own kind. He was alien and powerful, striking, dangerous and…beautiful. _So beautiful_. In spite of his size, he moved quietly with a sort of military elegance. He stopped before his bench, taking stock of the assembly, then lowered himself to hold audience.

  
Grey was stilled, lost deep in this strange reverie, when Fenris stepped forward and spoke first. “Arishokost. Maaras shokra. Anaan esaam Qun.” She dragged herself back to attention in her surprise at her companion’s unknown ability, secretly grateful for the reprieve…a reprieve which was not to last. “A friend of yours?” she asked under her breath. “Friend to no one,” the warrior replied.

  
The Arishok’s response came, uttered in a rich and resonant bass. “The Qun from an elf? The madness of this…place.” As if the shock of his mere presence had not been enough, his voice vibrated through her, it seemed to catch beneath her ribs and reverberate from there. She struggled to keep herself from trembling, much to her shame. It was not a reaction to fear, that much she knew. She was nearly shuddering with an unknown and unknowable… need—it was vibrating from within her. She frowned. She would think about that later. Whatever it was, she kept her stance upright but neutral and her expression equally neutral. It took a considerable amount of focus, she could vaguely hear Javaris through the haze of her concentration, finding herself jolted back to the present reality at hand at a single word.

  
“No.” Her eyes snapped up to lock with the alien eyes of the Arishok. His nostrils flared for a split second before he returned to his explanation; his eyes narrowed, his gaze unreadable, his voice rolling over her, delicately laced with contempt.  
“There is no profit in empowering those not of the Qun. It will be dispensed to our enemies in the…traditional manner.” He was looking directly at her…almost through her. Why was he looking at her? Was he trying to decide whether she was one such foe? She had killed his outlaw Tal Vashoth and now it seemed that a bargain had never existed. What was her position in all of this?

  
“Fenris,” she began,” Any insight that might help?”

  
“Qunari do not abandon a debt. I humbly request clarification from the Arishok.”

  
“I have a growing lack of disgust for you, human. The dwarf invented the bargain for the gaatlok to show his worth when he has none.”

  
“Then we have wrongly inserted ourselves in your affairs. Would you have us kill this dwarf?”

  
“What, now?” Understanding seemed to be dawning on Javaris. He was certainly out of his depth among these people.

  
“If you faced Tal Vashoth, he is not worthy of dying to you, any more than he was worthy of dying to them.”

  
Was that a compliment? If it was, it was a dubious one. All they had gone through on this task was for nothing. Normally she would have demanded payment--she could just see Bethany’s face when she would return home, short some gold. Yet, as the bargain had never existed in truth, she could see no way to collect. She imagined the Arishok would see Javaris pay his debt, but it felt…wrong, somehow. “You had better go, Javaris,” she said, mentally adding,” _and you’d do well not to cross my path again._ ”

  
“I suspect we are done, human. There is no more coin for you here.” He dismissed her with insult in his timbre. _Well, he can’t dislike me any more than he does now_. Curiosity had been known to get the better of her on occasion, and he had not thrown her out. Finally finding her voice and imagining she might only have one chance, she asked him of the Tal Vashoth she had defeated and the one who had warned her of their whereabouts. On listening intently to his explanation, however, the earlier insult cut deeper. _He thinks I am a mercenary…one who sells themselves, one in whom little remains. And he is right._ The truth was, there was not much left at the end of a day. She lived and worked to protect her family. Kirkwall was not her home, she was not her father and so, as mercenary she lived, saving her coin to pay for her one chance of escape, which was one job further away than it had been a few minutes ago.

  
Her voice went off without her, as she began to question him about his people and their ways. There had been a Sten in Lothering who had gone on with the Hero of Ferelden, but she had not had the opportunity to talk to him at all, let alone ask about the Qun. The Arishok would not answer everything and he questioned her as well. He seemed to be surprised that she was new to Kirkwall and that she was not at all charmed by it. He stood then and told her that it was not the same everywhere. He denied it. He denied it with certainty that he said would benefit Kirkwall. I’m sure it would, she thought. Qunari law was not military rule, he went on, though with her limited understanding he expected that she would not grasp the difference. _Right again_ , she thought, _but I’d like to. I would like to understand all of this._

  
“Farewell.”

  
“Panahedan, human,” was the gravelly response.

  
Grey Hawke turned and filed out with her companions, feeling the Arishok’s eyes on her back. Tempted as she was, she did not turn to look back from the gate, but began the long trudge back to Gamlen’s shack, where Bethany and mother would be awaiting their own disappointment. It felt wrong and right all at once…wrong to leave the mystery of that compound, and right in the moment. This was a moment of retreat. There was too much to think about.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

  
The Arishok sat in a relaxed pose, intently watching her retreating figure until the gate closed, then rose and walked to his quarters. The two rooms were divided by a screen, one day room, one night. He poured tea into a cup as he sat at his desk. Inhaling and then sipping, he let out a breath as he thought carefully. Then he picked up a quill and began to pen a note. When he was finished, he sprinkled sand across the parchment to dry it, read it once more and sealed it, dispatching a messenger.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

**  
**

He began his day, as always. He rose before dawn and spent time in meditation. He trained his body and maintained his weapons and armor. He bathed, was painted and dressed. Then, as always, he returned to the desk in his dwelling where his morning ration and all correspondence awaited him. He immediately recognized the scroll by its size and seal. He broke fast paying no heed to the pile of missives. When he had finished, he poured tea and began to read the letters in order of importance. There were many of them; the viscount’s letters went to the bottom of the pile, matters of the Qun stayed on top. He saved the scroll for the end of the important pile, the pile that concerned his people. _The nation that must be_. On reaching it, he read slowly, carefully, line by line. Satisfied that he had not misunderstood the contents’ meaning, he rolled it up and stored it. Once more he rose, this time to join his people.

  
As he approached the bench where he sat at official function, his mind flashed back to the human female. Hawke. That was how they referred to her in the city, though humans kept two names. He thought of the proud birds of prey and found that the title agreed with him and with her. Her other name, Grey, reminded him of the Tal Vashoth—the true gray ones. Fitting, perhaps, that she had been their end. How long had it been since that first meeting? Many months. And how long since the second? _Not since…Arvaraad. She proves herself without trying, without effort_. She was bas. She had ability. She was born to and of chaos. But the experience of Tal Kost did not lie.

  
She had come to the compound then to tell him that she had crossed blades and defeated Arvaraad. As Basvaraad she had led Saarebas from the city—impressive enough in a sense. She had handed the leash to Arvaraad, bending naturally to the will of the Qun. Then she had done something no bas he had ever encountered had done—she had taken responsibility. She had not sought conflict, but in the face of it(and against Arvaraad, no less) she had triumphed. He did not understand why it had been important to her to tell him of the honor she had witnessed in Saarebas or to warn him of the Chantry sister’s plotting, but it clearly had been important to her. _She seeks to protect those of the Qun. She is no Viddithari though she acts as one simply by being._ He had taken a peculiar satisfaction in submitting the report that had detailed those events.

  
His men had told him of her trip into the Deep Roads. That had been two moons past. She had returned weeks ago without her Saarebas sister. She had wrested a fortune from those corruption mired pits, bought a mansion in the noble district—in one fell swoop she had returned her family to prominence. No, Tal Kost did not lie, nor did she. Nothing about her lied, neither her words, nor actions… _not even her body_. She spoke truths unflinchingly, never to dodge or deflect. She would be tested and tested extensively, but he knew that glory would follow her, sewn into her shadow. And so, he had asked the viscount for her specifically—in part to treat the city’s leader as what he was, one who could only hand responsibilities and duties off to those more capable, and no one was more capable. But in part, it had been an act of impatience. She was to be tested and he could no longer wait. Days rolled on, and Hawke had not visited the compound.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

 

“Appease the Arishok.” Those were the last words the viscount spoke to her before she took her leave. She would have to go now. Duty demanded it.

  
The Deep Roads had, in many ways, been good for her. Her skills and fortunes had improved. Mother could finally live in the manner to which she had been accustomed before running away with father. With the wealth and her family’s re-entrance into the world of nobility had come prestige and opportunity. _But at what cost?_ Bethany was gone. She would never live the noble life she had dreamed of…a name and wealth rallied around her. Alive or dead, she was gone, lost to the Deep Roads. And, with the opportunity had come obligations. Grey sighed. Never had she felt more lost or alone. Part of her had wanted to take her share back to Ferelden, to buy lands on which to retire far from the stench of Kirkwall. But her home, Lothering, was gone. In the end, she had done what she could for her mother. She had taken back their ancestral home. The Amells had returned to roost.

  
What did the Arishok want with her? He had once mentioned that she was one of few with any ability, though that was a random occurrence that had somehow managed to flower out of greed. She sighed. _I suppose I’m the best Kirkwall has to offer, greed and all._ Her mother greeted her at the door, dressed as, even moving like a noblewoman once more. Bodhan called her attention to the collection of letters awaiting her, which she waved off until the morning. She went to her room noting the paw prints on her bed as she changed out of armor before heading to the library. She was tired. She wanted to sit before the fire and read. The Arishok would not be seeing her today. Too little of her remained. She poured herself a cup of tea then she sank to the cushions by the fire. She would report to him in the morning.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

 

“…a courtesy, Hawke…”

  
She stood again before the Arishok and again she was captivated—his presence brought a quiet to her, a trance, just as his voice rippled across her skin like water. _Saar qamek…would he be cautious…you will want to hunt him…a courtesy, Hawke…I do not hope you die._

  
Her name sounded strange on his tongue, it was a collection of sounds voiced with…care, or meaning. Yes...meaning, as if in speaking it he made it so. For a moment she felt a buoyancy, a weightlessness—a sensation of hovering on the winds…like a hawk.

  
Javaris had made enemies and the Coterie had organized a sell off. Still… The more Hawke thought about it, the more it didn’t fit. Javaris would steal from the Qunari if he could. _A pretty big IF,_ Grey thought. He would mass-produce, confident in success. However, considering that fact, why should he sell up and run? Assuming profits for gaatlok, he would be wealthy beyond all reckoning. He would be able to settle debts, by an estate, buy an army. The pieces did not fit, but with no other leads, he was as good a place to start as any.

  
As she followed the trail through the Undercity’s smugglers’ cut, her mind wandered back to the Arishok. The Qun demanded that they defend the formula for gaatlok down to the last man, He had said that with such calm, and only by way of explanation. He was ready to die to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. Grey wondered at it. She admired his peaceful acceptance of sacrifice. _It would be a catastrophe if the gaatlok was stolen, of course…Qunari black powder, available to every sewer rat in Thedas…_

  
Reaching Javaris did not prove difficult nor did besting his hired guards. She left him alive and harvesting whatever he could from the bodies of the mercenaries he had hired. An elf? Elves were at a great disadvantage in the city from Hightown to Darktown. It seemed both improbable and probable. Someone like Javaris would not and could not act against the Qunari alone and yet—what would an elf want with gaatlok? And what would she do with what she actually had—saar qamek?

  
“Well, hold your breath.” Grey had found in life that humor could do many things—it could be mask, shield or banner. Her people followed her, they followed her well and whenever she asked herself why she came up with three answers: fortune, fairness and fun.

  
Where she led them at the present moment promised none of those things. A whole street in Lowtown. The greenish gas was everywhere—a thick, garish, choking fog. Grey could not keep count of the numbers of opponents she faced, could not keep track of Varric, Anders and Fenris. Through the haze, each and every adversary seemed crazed and one fight blended seamlessly into the next until the elf showed herself. Mad, Javaris had said, and mad she was. _She just needed a few more bodies…and she fell the same as the rest_ , Grey thought, bitterly. Someone was stoking the fires; empowering and encouraging zealots and fanatics.

  
The Viscount favored appeasement. Sister Petrice had proved that there were vipers slithering among the faithful. The elf proved that there were people at the bottom who were desperate enough to act. All the ingredients needed for a raging bloodbath. Maker only knew what lay at the root of all this. The Maker. She sighed, hardly knowing who to report to first. The Arishok. _A courtesy for a courtesy._

_  
_

_  
_

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

 

He had not noticed the tension that weighed upon him as he awaited the outcome of this latest intrigue until it was lifted by the sight...and sound, and smell...of the human female re-entering the compound shortly before sundown. Anticipation off of the battlefield was a waste of energy. The Qunari did not waste. He was involved—testing, trying, reporting. Still, distance was vital to this study.

  
She gave her report. It was all he had suspected and more. As he listened to her voice he caught scent of something. Just as with Saarebas and the Chantry sister…she is concerned.

  
“They strike from shadows because they cannot stand before us. This is not a revelation. And it doesn’t matter. I am not here to fight. I am here to satisfy a demand that you cannot understand.” As he spoke, he noted the changes in her, the way that he muscles relaxed. He paused, listening. Even her heartbeat has slowed…but the scent of concern remained.

  
She had asked and he had answered. Now she was pushing. She behaved as Viddithari, although she had not requested conversion. She was concerned for his people even as she shifted on her feet, battlesore and exhausted. He was answering. _She is testing me. She tests without knowing._ The demand of the Qun was not hers and he … He drew a long silent breath through his nose. What was meant to calm had the opposite effect. He was standing too close to her on the inhale. The effect was immediate. He saw red.

  
“Should I argue the wind? Very well. Filth stole from us—not now, not the saar qamek—years ago. A simple act of greed has bound me. We are all denied Par Vollen until I alone recover what was lost under MY command.” He paused, his breath steady. He went on, turning the test back on his subject. “That is why this elf and her shadows are unimportant, **that** Is why I do not simply walk from this pustule of a city.” Turning away, he tuned his every sense in to observing her. His voice rose. “Fixing your mess is not the demand of the Qun!” Turning, he rushed her. “And you should all be **grateful**!”

  
She did not shrink or quail then. She seemed to stand in quiet admission—a cool observer of a fact—as if he had told her the sky was blue. Had he tested her now or was she testing him? _Both_ , he decided, as is _fitting_. Did she understand the tome’s pricelessness? She seemed to, even without knowing what it was. She understood dedication. And there was another thing he knew was understood—the frustration of being bound to this city state. He was tied to the tome, she to the one who bore her, and neither could leave without a change in fortune.

  
The Viscount would see her next. She would do her duty. For now he had no choice but to wait, and if his hand was forced…

  
Nothing was to be made easier for her, he knew. He considered carefully, summoned his Kithshok and Sten before him, then began to detail a plan to take the city. Should the female Hawke oppose them, they were to fight as they would any bas of known prowess. There was, however, one noble in the city who was not to be harmed. Only one. _To walk from here I must win back the Tome of Koslun. To leave here, I must gain. To leave here, she must lose her mother—it is necessary…but it will not be by my hand, nor any who follow me._

_  
_

_  
_

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

 

Hawke arrived home shortly after making her report to the Viscount, only to learn of the missing Qunari delegation. _Cut one thread and another appears_ , she thought, now heavy with fatigue. The Arishok’s missing whatever it was, a missing Qunari delegation and an office that could not…Maker be damned! Why had they bound the swords? The Qunari were not mindless monsters. But the men of Kirkwall are. _One cannot see what they cannot be_. But, if they had been able to defend themselves, she had no doubt they would be back at the compound now and the Arishok would be temporarily appeased. She would have to tell him, of course. Immediately.

  
She had only to stop at the mansion to switch out her damaged gear, but on entering she heard Gamlen asking for Leandra. Mother had missed their weekly meeting. Then Bodhan mentioned the lilies, a suitor. _The necromancer_. A chill ran through her as she turned to the door. Slinging her weapons onto her back she exited the mansion with Merrill, Anders and Sebastian. As she had somehow known it would, the trail led back to the foundry in Lowtown.

  
As the necromancer fell dead, Mother, once beautiful and vibrant teetered forward to fall in her arms. Both Merrill and Anders shook their heads. Grey embraced emptiness, unable to do anything but hold on as the last member of her family slipped from her grasp.

  
 _The Arishok will wait. Kirkwall will wait_. She had to go home; to make the arrangements to bury her mother, to tell Gamlen, to…she sighed. No tears were coming. _To summon whatever still remains_.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

  
He had not expected to see her so soon. Or perhaps he had expected to see her sooner. The delegates were already missed, but the news of her mother’s demise had traveled swiftly on the delegates’ missing heels. The tale relayed to him had horrified him. Once dead, a body was a shell--a useless husk, once empty…but for a body to be treated as a shell while still occupied…blood magic. _It may as well be known as the Kirkwall flu._ She stood before him, staring out at him through dark circles. Her voice rang clear and true as she informed him of the delegates’ disappearance.

  
“Anyone else could not have said that and lived.” He leveled his gaze with hers. Her eyes said that she knew. _These officials hide behind her,_ he thought with disgust. _It is she who should rule here_. That, of course, was not part of his plans. She was to recover the delegation and uncover the truth. He trusted that she would. “I will be waiting, Hawke. I am anxious to see how you will resolve this.”

  
She worked quickly. She must have worked well into the night. The compound had been active before first light and she arrived just as he had finished reading the morning missives. She carried four swords which, on his unspoken command, she handed off to Taarbas. Once more she stood before him. She made no excuses, no arguments. He smelled grief, concern and tiredness. When he demanded an explanation for the condition of the bodies, she said that a zealot had used them, tortured them to incite his followers to further violence. It was not a lie. Had she killed them? With neither shame nor pride, she had answered in the affirmative. As soon as he released her, she turned to leave. “Hawke, I will keep at least one good thought of your kind.” He had meant the words to honor her. Her head turned acknowledging his words with the faintest of nods, though he believed she understood the extent to which his words did indeed honor her.

  
 _She exceeds all possible expectation_. But it was wrong. There was a toll to be paid. _What will it take_? He thought, with a certain discomfort. What was it going to take?

  
As with every interaction with her, he retreated to his desk, sat, considered and sent his report.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

 

Aveline and Isabela were waiting for her, fighting like cats over a fish. An urgent message from the Viscount lay on the desk…all three of them pointing squarely at the Arishok. Aveline wanted a couple of Viddithari, Isabela wanted her relic, the Viscount wanted his son… _and Mother is dead_. She heard them out and waved them off. They left, the din of their arguing gradually floating away. _The house is so quiet_.

  
“I’m so sorry about your Momma,” Orana said. She seemed to understand something. She led Grey to a hot bath, left for the kitchen and returned with hot milk and some cookies. She dressed her for bed, tucked her in and drew every shade. “Good night, now,” she said before closing the bed canopy. Hawke drained the milk and slept. She sank deeper and deeper into a sleep no dream could penetrate. When she woke, a full day and night had passed. Two more days passed in like fashion. In her conscious hours she thought of the Qun, She longed for certainty, or at least a purpose. Her purpose had disappeared. _It died with my family. What is left now_?

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

 

  
The reports were disturbing. All preparations had been made. The messengers had been dispatched and returned with every confirmation he had awaited. The compound was fortified, the men had their orders, they had found paths through the Undercity Warrens leading to every choke point in the city. _Sifting through the rubble it shall be_. He had only to wait…and watch.

  
For three days the shades of Hawke’s Hightown mansion had been drawn—no light or movement shown from within. Her followers had not been admitted, the reason unknown…though a reason was suspected. _The internal struggle_. He frowned. _She will triumph as with everything else. It will be she that I face…_ He did not doubt her, not in the least. _But her followers, her servants_ … He returned his attention to his men, his training and his strategy.

  
At the end of his duties for the day, he retired to his quarters as usual. Tea awaited him. He poured, sipped and thought. Maps of the Undercity sprawled open before him on his desk. He considered carefully as he paused in sipping to inhale the scent of Seheron emanating from his drink. Quietly resting the cup on his desk, he retrieved his weapons and disappeared into the night.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

  
She was moaning, but it was a sound that scarcely penetrated the fog between her ears. A huge hand covered her mouth and even in her alarm, she struggled to part her eyelids. A familiar bass greeted her.

  
“Hawke, your Maker will not be able to save you should you choose to scream.”

  
She sighed against his hand, instantly relieved. His presence was a calming one, always sure and direct. She could not imagine how or why he was there with her, but harming her was not his purpose. She relaxed, managing to nod minutely and the massive hand lifted immediately.

  
“I must speak with you, Hawke. Gather yourself.”

  
She tried. Truly, she tried. He could not be here if it were not a matter of grave importance. She felt her body fall limp and slack as two hands, gripping her shoulders, lifted her to sit up. One arm came to secure her upright, the other gently gripped her jaw. He pulled her eyes open, eyeing her seriously before inhaling deeply through his nose. His eyes bore into hers full of an intensity she could not read. She was so tired.

  
“You have been drugged, Hawke. Was it your will?” His voice carried the weight of accusation, though it did not seem entirely directed at her. He continued to hold her eyes with his. Unable to find her voice, she managed to roll her head from one side to the other.

  
He growled. It was a primal sound that reminded her of a lion. She shivered involuntarily as the vibration of it traveled from his body where they touched and through her own.

  
“There is no time, Hawke. Listen well. Speak to the Viscount if you must, but do not speak to any companions before speaking to me.” He paused, considering. The Qunari did not waste anything—words, least of all. His voice lowered as his breath brushed her ear. “Gather yourself, Hawke.”

  
She sensed her body floating back to meet her bed and for a moment she could feel his presence, the softness of his breath near her, then he was gone. She wanted to cry out for him not to relinquish her to the darkness gathered around her, but walled in exhaustion, she surrendered once more to sleep.

  
Grey woke, groggy and plagued with headache. She rang for a bath and breakfast. When the bath was drawn, she rose, removing the loose fitting tunic she wore. She noticed a smudge of red that ran the length of one sleeve. Taking it off, she looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Gather yourself,’ he said. With a deep breath, she began to gather… _what is there_?...she began to gather herself. On her breakfast tray lay the private message from the Viscount bearing the mark of urgency.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

  
The unfolding of events in Kirkwall never ceased to amaze him. From the lowest elf to the son of the Viscount, many were coming to him seeking the certainty of the Qun. The Captain of the Guard awaited an audience he would not grant. _Not before Hawke…none before Hawke._ He would wait as long as it took—

  
His thought remained unfinished and inconsequential. It no longer mattered, for Hawke had entered the compound walking directly past the Guard Captain without a single word. Her face had grown hollow but her eyes were clear. Her step did not falter, nor did her expression waiver.

  
“Shenedan, Hawke.”

  
“Greetings, Arishok. I come to you today on behalf of the Viscount. He asks that you release his son to him.” She paused. _How…disappointing_. Continuing, she said,” I told him that Seamus is a grown man and that the choice is rightly his, but he insisted I make a plea on his behalf.” It began to make sense to him. Her instincts run true and…it gave her an excuse to come alone and without speaking to her followers. _Impressive._ Tal Kost never lied. Already they began to understand one another. Already they had a language only they could decipher.

  
“Approach,” he commanded, rising from the bench and waiting with his back turned to the compound. He listened to her light steps which carried her to his side where she stopped, facing in the same direction as he. He waited one extra breath. Without preamble he began. “Is it your will to become Viddithari?” He sensed hesitation behind her silence. “You are basalit-an. You are the only one here who is worthy of respect. This is who you are—it cannot be changed.” Whatever she chose, this remained true.

  
She was silent a moment and when her voice came it was quiet, like velvet to him. “How do you know?”

  
He drew in another breath before answering. She was not as near to him now as she had been the night before and still her presence was beginning to cause an intoxication that only grew stronger with time. His words rumbled from him as he wondered over what it all meant. “I know. I have always known. You have merely confirmed. Is it your will to join with us, to bind your will to the Qun?” He could feel her gaze on him. She turned to face as before.

  
“What must I do?”

  
“You are basalit-an. You need only be. But as Viddithari, I may confide in you the task that will allow the departure of my people from this place. That which was stolen from us was a book, the Tome of Koslun, our most sacred text. I cannot leave without it. It must be recovered and I will not fail. My hand is forced. We will soon have to fight our way from here.”

  
“So you wish me to find it—“

  
“No. Find it if you can, as Viddithari it is your duty, but the Qun requires more from you than even this most sacred task. All of us must leave once it is recovered and you must remain in Kirkwall. You will know when the time is right for you to make your journey to Par Vollen. Return to the pavilion, Hawke.”

  
She turned and left him there. When they had reached their original positions, he answered her official question. He did not control the boy, moreover his new Viddithari had already left to meet his father in the Chantry.

  
“That is a bit odd.” Her face was nonchalant, but he smelled the truth on her. _She is thinking what I am thinking. Mother Petrice’s hand moves behind this._

  
“If she has threatened someone under my command again, there is only one response. In this situation, the demand of the Qun is clear. I will be watching Hawke. Do not disappoint me.”  
She nodded and left.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

**  
**

The Chantry was dark and cavernous at night. The Viscount had not arranged this meeting, that much was clear, and Grey’s sense of foreboding was piqued. _The Chantry after dark…it hasn’t boded well thusfar_ … She had brought a skeletal group—Isabela and Varric. She had left Sebastian out of it. His devotion lay more with the Chantry than with her. Besides, the three of them were less noticeable than four and all three of them knew how to utilize the shadows.

  
Seamus slowly came into view as they cautiously approached. He appeared to be kneeling on the upper tier where Elthina stood during the day, available to bless or whatever. She could have prevented all of this… Motioning to her cohorts, Hawke climbed the steps and on reaching his side, she watched him simply slide lifelessly to the floor. _Oh, Seamus._ She had liked the young man. She had been in some way proud of his conversion, impressed with the courage it took. He was young and idealistic…and unwilling to take the advice of others to stop being idealistic.

  
She crouched beside his body trying to determine how he had been killed when she heard the voice she had been expecting. Mother Petrice. There would be no escape. The demand of the Qun was clear, and had it not been, the demand of her own conscience was clearer still.

  
“The true crime would be to die untested. Faithful, earn your place in this life and the next!”

  
They were ordinary people. They were eaten alive by hate and uncertainty and corruption. They were attacking with the force that only a fanatic can know and channel. And they were cut down. Every man and every woman. It was a waste…such a blatant and unforgivable waste. If she had harbored any doubts at all about her choice the rivulets of blood that mingled among the bodies washed her clean of them.

  
At the sound of footsteps, she turned. Petrice and Elthina were floating down the stairs. As Petrice attempted the frame she had neatly set up, Hawke waited, knowing that Elthina—although ponderously slow to act—was usually ready to listen.  
“The young mother has erred in her judgement. The Chantry respects the law, and so must she.” She turned away from Petrice’s repeated appeals, slowly ascending the staircase. “Send for Viscount Dumar.”

  
A single archer of the Qun peeled himself from the shadow he had occupied, witnessing the events as they took place. He notched an arrow and looked directly at Hawke. Stepping before him, she drew her blades and with one savage double cut, she beheaded Petrice. Meeting his eyes again he regarded her with approval. “We do not abandon our own,” and melted back into the darkness.

  
“Maker, Hawke, what were you thinking? She had the Viscount’s son killed, she’d have been executed by any court in Thedas!” Varric was staring at her in disbelief.

  
“Agreed. Are you...with the Qunari? Hawke…?” Isabela eyed her questioningly.

  
“Didn’t you see, Varric? She tried to escape. And as for Qunari, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have not seen any member of the Qun outside of the compound…well, aside from the dead ones on the Wounded Coast.” Hawke stared them both in the eyes before lowering her voice. “It wasn’t something I thought about. I had to kill her myself for what she did.”

  
Her companions exchanged worried glances, but when the Viscount arrived to cradle his dead son in his arms, their looks seemed to relent. Petrice had led them into many bad spots, now she had taken an old man’s only child from him in the name her own warped idea of religion, and Hawke had cradled her own mother in like manner only days ago. When the Templars arrived, Isabela and Varric corroborated everything. In time, they even came to forget the Qunari’s appearance.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

 

Hawke herself had delivered the killing blow. He had expected no less. Now events were beginning to spin and accelerate. _Any message I send will be intercepted_. She was Viddithari and there was more that he needed to tell her. Did he dare wait for her to come to him, perhaps to inform him of all that had happened in the Chantry? He suspected not. _She will not do that. One of my men was there and what would not alert her people would certainly alert mine_. As soon as tomorrow all of the city’s tensions could boil over. He could see no other option.

  
Slipping under the grate in the cellars of the compound, he began to retrace his steps to the place they had led him two nights ago. He knew he could not make her test easier for her, but that was not his purpose. There were things she had to know. Creeping through was not difficult, but stealth ruled out speed. He suspected she would be abed as he lifted himself from below the grate in her wine cellar. He stole silently into her bedroom, finding it dimly lit. As she looked up from a book she held, her eyes held a glow, unexpected… _but welcome_ , he realized. Her scent filled the room.

  
“Hawke.” He advanced to where she sat and lowered himself to sit on a chair beside the bed.

  
“Why must I stay in Kirkwall?” she asked, preempting his own thought.

  
“It is your will to leave with us?” She nodded in response. “It is of this subject that we must speak. It is why I have come.” She looked at him, silent and expectant. He went on,” The Triumvirate has further plans for Kirkwall. Black magic runs wild here, amid the chaos and directionlessness of the city and its inhabitants. It must be brought under the Qun. When we leave, we wage a tactical retreat. It will be up to you to win the city one step at a time. When it is won, journey to Par Vollen via Seheron. We will supply you with agents of the Ben Hassreth to install to rule Kirkwall in your stead. Then and only then, can you be permanently released from this place.” Again, she simply nodded.

  
The chain reaction was becoming harder to control. “Kadan…”he breathed the word, scarcely voicing it. Her hair was tied, but his fingers pulled it loose, hands coming to cradle her head, he leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. The pinpricks of electricity between them erupted where their faces touched. His people ran hot; he rolled his forehead against hers, savoring the coolness of it. He could smell the sweetness of her breath, of her body…”Do you know what is happening, Kadan? What is it you feel?” the pitch of his voice had crawled even lower. Her answer was staggering, and so quiet it seemed to ride a sigh.

  
“The absence of questions.”

  
He growled quietly. “Just so.” He brushed his nose against hers, inhaling again. She pushed her nose against his slowly, and in a barely there whisper of a touch, her lips floated over his. Sparks ignited where her lips had grazed. _No other member of the Qun has known this…not in hundreds of years_. One claw dragged down from the collar of her tunic, slicing a mere scrap of cloth. Taking it with reverence, he stood and just as silently as he had come, exited the estate.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

**  
**

There was no more avoiding it. She had to report with Aveline. The compound had been closed to outsiders for days, herself included. She needed to get in. She needed to tell him what she knew.

  
Isabela. It had been Isabela all along. Hawke had never fully trusted her, but she had certainly befriended her. _If she had just told me what this was all about_ … Trust cut both ways it seemed. Had she known that Isabela had stolen the Tome because of Castillon’s threat, she would have intervened, either with gold or with blades. It didn’t matter now. Isabela hadn’t left it up to chance-- she had stolen the Tome and run off.

  
With Aveline and two of her guards, Hawke advanced on the main pavilion. The Arishok stood watching. Aveline began to demand that he relinquish the Viddithari and he silenced her. Turning to Hawke, he immediately asked of the Tome.

  
“One of my former companions stole it.” _I will never forgive you, Isabela. There is nowhere you can hide._

  
“Her role in this was known. Your admission is welcome.”

  
“A subject for another time—“ Aveline broke in, determined to achieve her objective.

  
He called forth the Viddithari. They turned out to be two adolescent elves. Their sister had been raped by a guard. They had reported it, and when nothing was done, they had taken justice into their own hands. Hawke’s stomach turned. _Aveline, how could you ask for them? How could you ask me to help?_

  
“I would have done the same thing in their place.”

  
“Hawke, this isn’t helping.” Undeterred, Aveline continued to seek their arrest.

  
“What would you do, Hawke, were you in my place?” the Arishok was asking her. As she met his eyes which had fallen on her, she sensed that he was trying to tell her something else. _We do not abandon our own_. She remembered the night in the Chantry… _He is saying goodbye_. He had once said he would have at least one good memory of her kind.

  
Returning his stare and willing him to hear her meaning through her words she replied. “I wouldn’t give them up.” _Do not forget me_.

  
His nostrils flared in response. “Just so,” he replied smoothly. ‘ _Never,_ ’ was what she heard. He issued a command as he turned away and spears began to fly. She side-stepped them about to draw her weapons while backing towards the gate. Aveline urged her to follow. She chanced one last glace. The Arishok’s eyes awaited her. Fully alight, they glowed gold with a cat like fever. At Aveline’s call, she left.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Arishok**

**  
**

  
The city was his. All of the nobles had been gathered in the palace of the Viscount. He tossed them the head of their leader, amid their shrieks and accusations. He lectured them of their wrongs, a mere attempt to educate, though he did not hold any hopes on that account. He was stalling. Everything had to work out in perfect synchronicity, and this would involve a theft and subsequent remuneration of time. The great doors opened and through them stepped Grey Hawke, last of the Amells and soon to be Champion of Kirkwall. She understood. She must win the city…step by step.

  
“Shanedan, Hawke. Pay attention. This is what respect looks like. Most of you will never earn it.” He paused. “You know that we cannot leave without the Tome of Koslun. How do you see this resolved without it?”

  
“I believe I can answer that,” the pirate queen’s voice called from the door as a large body dropped to one side. She had come back, plagued by whatever passed for a conscience in her, she had done the right thing. Turning it over to the him, he took it with such reverence evident in his expression before passing it on to an underling, she confessed aside to Hawke that she had gotten a long way before she had known she had to come back.

  
“We will leave here, with the thief.”

  
The argument ensued. The Guard Captain wanted to meet out justice, the elf thought she should go to the Qun and Hawke remained silent…He proposed a duel for the thief, the winner would take her. The pirate volunteered to duel.

  
“She’s all yours,” Hawke found the answer.

  
“You double crossing bitch!” Isabela cried. Hawke came forward, wearing a smile as she tucked a lock of wild hair behind her ear.

  
“You should see your face right now.” He had noticed immediately as had the pirate, though no one else seemed to. Continuing to curse and swear, the thief was dragged out by one of the Karasten.

  
“We will return.” He was looking at her, his eyes aglow. That was just a split second. Then he walked coolly past her amid cheers of her new title, following his men to the harbor where the dreadnought he had sent for awaited them.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

**  
**

Champion of Kirkwall. It was only the first step. She had suspected that winning the city from the Qunari would be a strategic necessity. She would not be able to proceed if anyone suspected an affiliation with them. As she had brought about this resolution with as little bloodshed as possible, she was regarded with total confidence. And, as the Arishok must have anticipated, the vacuum created by the exodus of the Qunari presence brought about greater unrest. In their way, the Qunari had been balancing the tension between the mages and Templars.

  
Every day, First Enchanter Orsino was speaking from the squares of Hightown and Knight-Commander Meridith came personally to antagonize him. Without a Viscount, Meridith had done all but declare martial law under the Templars. Grey could not allow that to stand. Kirkwall needed a leader. _A real one._ Orsino himself was a force for anarchy. They are unable to train mages to resist demons already. Her father had known to teach Bethany, but when Hawke thought about the necromancer who had taken her mother, her heart and stomach would trade places inside her. There were no incidents of blood magic among the Qunari.

  
When she came upon them directly outside of her estate, she interrupted them. They were both wrong. It was only a matter of time before everyone saw that. Elthina also came to disperse the crowd and send the players to their corners. Hawke sighed. Elthina would always be two steps behind necessity.

  
The demand of the Qun was clear, but achieving her objective was complicated. Meredith was madly seizing more power, Templars stood in greater numbers throughout the city—they looked to outnumber the guard. They hunted Qunari agents almost as well as they hunted mages. By rights, the Templars and Meredith were the greater threat to her, both personally and politically. Grey had mage companions, all three of them, apostates. On the other hand, she had to agree with Fenris. A mage, driven by desperation was as great a danger to his friends as he was to his foes. Orsino was becoming desperate. Keeper Marethari had taken on a pride demon to save Merril from herself…Hawke had truly believed that Marethari was as close as a mage could come to immunity to demon corruption, but she too had fallen.

  
Hawke rubbed the bridge of her nose as she walked to the library. Some of the calm of the Qun remained with her. She did not fear that the solution to all of this would present itself to her. Her only task was to be. Still, she felt an emptiness whenever she passed the derelict compound.

 

 

**Aboard the Dreadnought: Arishok**

**  
**

It was done. He had treated with the thief.

  
He knew that Hawke had given her the means to escape. It was for this reason that he had secured her in his own cabin until they were too far from any shore for her to hope to swim. The only way out would be through him. She had sat with a careless air, subtly struggling against her restraints. He sat across from her at his desk, considering his words.

  
“I understand you planned to use the Tome of Koslun to pay a debt.”

  
“That is the short of it, yes.” Her voice twinkled, she was careful to keep it light. She is suspicious…and she wonders if I have noticed that she has all she needs to free herself. She could not hope to escape him here. He would see to that personally.

  
“Your act was selfish. Basalit-an would have settled any debt on your behalf. Stealing was unnecessary and…insulting.”

  
“Look, I know that, alright?” He had hit a nerve. She was uncomfortable about the position in which she had placed her leader.

  
“Are you interested in atonement?”

  
“What? What does atonement mean to you? Does it mean indoctrination into the Qun? What?” Her eyes were betraying her. She was afraid.

  
“Not to me, not to the Qun. Do you wish to atone for the act of greed which could have cost you your only friend?”

  
“What would you have me do?” She looked uncertain, but earnest for the first time.

  
“I know she gave you the means to escape. I respect her intent, but that does not mean I have agreed with her judgment. I have…conditions.”

  
“Such as?” Her light tone had returned.

  
“When you leave, you will not make another attempt on the Tome of Koslun. If you do, you will be hunted, possibly by Hawke herself. You spoke of indoctrination earlier. If you fear enlightenment, I cannot fathom your suffering should you earn the penalty that would await you.”

  
She squirmed slightly in her seat. “Fair enough. Anything else?”

  
“You were the captain of a ship. You will acquire another and return to Kirkwall. You will offer yourself again to her service and aid her in any way she requests. When she asks it of you, you will bring her as far as Seheron. From there, you may accept the Qun or turn back. These are my conditions. Do you accept?”

  
She swallowed heavily. She is ashamed to face Hawke again. She asked for a moment to think it over. He nodded, but did not move from his seat facing her. She let out an exasperated puff of air. Had she really expected him to leave her alone? As it was, he had placed copies of the Tome all over the ship, the real one lay disguised within a locked drawer in his desk. He would not gamble the Tome over this female’s sense of honor. But he would gamble her freedom. It was a situation in which he had nothing to lose.

  
“Alright.”

  
“Alright, what?” She would have to say it.

  
“Alright, I’ll leave the book alone, get a boat, a great big boat, and help Hawke, if she’ll have me. How do you know she’ll take me back?”

  
“She would not have given you the means to escape if she did not expect you to return to her.”

  
“You speak like you know her.”

  
That, he ignored. “Do you accept?” The Tome lay safely beneath his hand. Of that, he had to be sure.

  
“Yes.”

  
With that, he stood, turned his back and waited. He knew when he turned back, seconds later, that the thief would be gone and she was.

  
Taking up his seat once more, the Arishok carefully opened to a page he had marked with a single scrap of cloth. Picking up the cloth, he carefully read the passage. He contemplated it at length before drawing the scrap to his face, inhaling deeply. The soft, worn linen still smelled of the one who was wearing it when he took it. Replacing it as his bookmark, he stared across the desk where the thief had been bound. His wait had only just begun.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

**  
**

  
The letter from Isabela had been a surprise and the sight of her in the Hanged Man, even moreso. Hawke had hoped that she would make it back, but she hadn’t counted on it. Sitting down with her former companion, Grey heard her out and gave her an extra chance. Isabela had seemed to think that there was no room at her side now that she was Champion, but nothing was farther from the truth. She would need her help in the months to come, though, given the tone of her apology, this did not seem the time to speak of taking the city along with the title of Viscountess.

  
“He knew, you know. He knew that you stuck the pin in my hair. He had me dead to rights in his cabin. And I was absolutely beside myself…all that man and such a small space…But he told me to come find you. Why do you suppose he did that?” The Rivaaini was using a conspiratorial tone.

  
“I don’t know,” Hawke said, evasively. “Maybe he intended that you make it up to me. “ _You were the only message he could send…a …gift._ Apparently he had not forgotten her. He was trying to provide her with her own means to escape Kirkwall when the time came.

  
“There’s more to it than that. What is his interest in you? In Kirkwall? Come on, Hawke, there must be something.”

  
“Oh, Isabela, you poor darling. You have been too long without one of Varric’s dirty books…I’ll see you furnished with one straight away.” Evading was one of Hawke’s specialties, but Isabela was not easily deterred. “He said that he respects me, he even gave me a title. He knows that the Qunari presence was actually the only thing distracting the Templars and mages from their feuding. I may need to leave, and he does not understand why I stay. Sending you to me was probably the equivalent of throwing a rope to a man overboard.”

  
As glad as she was to see Isabela, and even more happy to know that she would be able to get out any time, Isabela’s questioning rattled her. She could not afford to have anyone suspect her ties with the Qunari… _which means, I am going to have to be a lot more careful._

  
”Isabela, I need you to do something for me. I need you to keep an eye on Anders and Merril…especially Anders. Something doesn’t feel right.” The best way to occupy Isabela, was to occupy Isabela. She was a natural for ferreting out information and she knew Anders from Amaranthine. Something was wrong, and as long as Isabela was looking into it, Hawke would gain both information and a measure of peace, knowing Isabela would not be studying her as closely.

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

**  
**

The Arishok had returned... _as far as Seheron_. Par Vollen would welcome him in victory, having met the demand of the Qun, but confirmation of his success would happen here. Vaulting himself onto the dock, he inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of the air, air that was clean, salty and sweet. It was good to be back, though he could not feel it in its fullness. Scent was slowly leaving the linen scrap he had harvested from where it lay clinging to her collar bone. _Hawke…_

  
He made his way to the pavilion where he knew the Arigena and Ariqun would await him. It was already clear from correspondence that the Arigena was skeptical over his claim. _They will see for themselves when she arrives in triumph_. He greeted them and sat facing them. It would be a long conversation, and full of questions.

  
The Ariqun was tall and slender for their kind, but a beautiful Kossith nonetheless. Of greater importance were her contributions to the spiritual life of the Qun. She was regarded as exceptional across several generations and it was she who spoke first.

"Arishok, you have returned to us our most sacred text. Honor is yours."

  
"It is as you say. At last, it is in our grasp. It will not be relinquished again."

  
"About your other more dubious honor...", the Arigena began and trailed off.

  
The Ariqun interrupted with her own indisputable grace. "I believe this is my area of expertise. I will interview the Arishok. The claim he has made is very serious, and my examination of his experience will be exhaustive. It may take months or even years. And in the meantime, the Champion will prove herself or she will not."

  
"She will. She does it without effort. It is what she is." The Ariqun eyed him seriously then.

  
"You will join me then on my pavilion. I will summon a scribe. All must be recorded as this is a matter that defies all previous precedent. Exceptions occur. This is part of the rich complexity we seek to understand. But we must be certain."

  
He nodded. The Triumverate adjourned and he followed her to the place where the scribe waited and began to tell her everything. He held no secrets from the Qun.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

**  
**

  
His kisses had become insistent. They labored to breathe with equal fervor.When his mouth finally left hers, it was to burn a path down her neck. She threw her head back to grant him full access to her and he responded by lowering her down to the pallet, with a bite so sudden and true that she winced at the heat of the wound it created, which he sucked in a way that both soothed and excited. He did not merely concern himself with pleasure triggers, he also experienced her. He breathed entirely through his nose, he licked and sucked fingers and wrists. He did not apply a single talon to her skin, but as rough the rough pads of his hands roamed over her, they chanced over her nipples, already hard and oversensitized. She arched her back following his touch and he growled his approval.

  
She was learning as well. His body spoke volumes. Muscles rippled and sinew tensed. He emitted a spectrum of noises she was beginning to know by instinct. He was grabbing her ankles now, sucking on her toes, licking her arches as she wiggled and squirmed. He spread them to accomodate him, dragging his face up the length of her legs, occasionally nipping, but generally sensing. _This is to feel my skin. That's all._ His exploration of her was nothing if not thorough. She had been told that the Kossith had stronger senses than humans, and as his face neared her sex, it occurred to her that her arousal would be intensely obvious. She did not close her legs, but her muscles tensed. His hands scooped under her legs and settled on her hips, pinning her open for him.

  
"You must learn to submit to me, Kadan." Without further explanation, his mouth hotly claimed access to her sex.

  
She was wet and hot. How could she not be with all that he did for her? But it all paled in comparison to the way he was pleasuring her now. He measured her needs perfectly at the same time as seeming to occupy another world. This act seemed to transcend all others for him. His chest rumbled with a low sort of hum. It was a sound she had never heard nor even imagined. It vibrated though her and in no time she was arching and thrashing against hands that anchored and supported, while a tortured growl tore its way from his throat.

  
She felt weak and boneless, and sure that he would take her now. It seemed the logical time. There was no place he had not touched, no need she could conceive of unsatisfied. She had submitted and perhaps now in the aftermath his entry and this lock that had filled her with trepidation, would be manageable.

  
He did not.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

**  
**

_Intoxication. Fever. Delirium._

  
Any male would have mounted her long ago. She was giving off a scent that was hitting him in waves, chipping insistently against his better judgment. He did not know what the lock would bring, but this was a test of endurance and he needed her ready. If she was unable to submit easily in the lock, they could be connected for hours...many hours. He had practiced meditations to be able to release the lock, but those too, would take hours. And if the seeding was not successful... _the sceptics would be given more credence._ Never in the course of a duty had he cut a corner and this was no exception. The more time taken in preparation, the quicker and more brilliant the result, or so he hoped.

  
 _She is so small, too small._ Their mating would always present challenges, but in some way he had looked forward to it. They would be entering into a sacred battle each for the other and for the whole, blending as camarades to honor and glorify. Soothing her now, he considered. She was ready, but he needed her open, as open as she could be and using his hands was not an option.

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

**  
**

The Ariqun sat across from him on her canopied pavilion. The shade was enough, coupled with the sea breeze, to lessen the heat of midday to a balmy warmth. Each sat on a bench, the Ariqun sat as if in meditation, but he sat as if at audience, upright and occasionally leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees. Three months had passed. In that time, the Tome of Koslun had been autheticated. He and his men were denied Par Vollen no longer and when all preparations were complete, they would break camp all and make for their capital and seat.

  
In that time as well, his daily interviews with the Ariqun continued. Sometimes the conversations evaluated him, she evaluated his fitness for leadership. This was wise and fair, considering that he had invoked Tal Kost, and with a bas, no less. Many under the Qun might think he had taken leave of his senses, and it was the Ariqun's role to make that assessment. Sometimes, she reviewed his reports from Kirkwall, asking for clarification or details. Other times, she reviewed news from the agent left in Kirkwall, Taarbas. This was one such day.

  
"She has recovered every sword of the fallen. Tarbaas must return with them if he is not to raise suspicion," she remarked, peering over the latest report. "He says that there has been rapid escalation of tensions in Kirkwall. Basalit-an has been sent to hunt blood mages by both the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter. This she has done for the greater good, though he believes that she resents the situation."

  
"It is natural for her to resent weakness, as I resented it during my confinement within the city. Neither the Knight Commander, nor the First Enchanter, nor the Grand Cleric--none of them have the power to staunch the flow of blood magic in Kirkwall, nor to control the mages who fall prey to demons in their own weakness. So they send her to fix their mess with a wooden sword. They deny her the right to rule because they all fear it will diminish them when, in truth, they are all so insignificant as to be beyond diminishing." It was the truth.

  
The Ariqun nodded thoughtfully. "There will be mass bloodshed soon and Tarbaas must be called back. What is your suggestion?"

  
"I have none. Basalit-an will satisfy the demand in whatever manner she deems necessary."

  
"This is the ultimate test of her status, both as you have expressed it and as it will be acknowledged under the Qun. You have invoked Tal Kost. Do you mean to say that you have no opinion, no investment in the outcome, no doubts?"

  
"You know as well as I the meaning of the rite I have invoked. Whether she saves the city or razes it is inconsequential, as long as she rules as Viscountess. She will choose as necessary, but either way, she will satisfy the demand of the Qun. Of that, no doubt exists. " He paused then. He had no secrets from the Qun but with this answer he had to be completely precise. "She is Basalit-an. No investment in an outcome can exist. Should I never lay eyes upon her again, the experience of finding Tal Kost has still been mine."\

  
"Do you mean to say that the judgment of the Qun in this is also immaterial?"

  
"No. My will is bound to the Qun, as is hers." His mind flashed to the scrap of cloth. _They will see, Kadan._

  
The Ariqun studied him, then nodded. Her face was neutral, but there was something in her eyes that told him the tide was turning.

 

 

**Kirkwall: Hawke**

**  
**

It had all happened so fast. Anders, _or Vengeance, or Justice, or...whatever,_ had betrayed them all by secretly planting explosives throughout the Chantry. Sebastian had demanded his death in his typically priestly and princely fashion. Sanctimonious, self-righteous and entitled-- _all the makings of the clergy and the aristocracy all in one place._ It hadn't mattered though. Anders knew the risks, he had known them when he had made truc with Justice. He had earned his death and she had given it to him. In truth, it had seemed a greater kindness than he deserved.

  
From there, she had been left to choose between defending the mages or supporting the templars and neither option had seemed particularly attractive to her. While containing the threat of blood magic obviously took precedence, Meredith was becoming increasingly unstable. Everyone, even the Knight Captain Cullen, acknowledged it. She seemed bloodthirsty and power hungry, a betrayal of her own command. Their order was sworn to defend the Chantry, a duty they had failed to perform and to control the mages, another duty they failed to perform--and yet, after Grey and her companions had defeated the mages, Meredith had been bent on seizing the city and killing her to do it. The result had been her inevitable demise.

  
 _And my inevitable ascension._ The templars of Kirkwall, following the example of the Knight Captain, had bent the knee and Hawke was now Viscountess of Kirkwall. _The demand is not yet satisfied. The Arishok said I would know when the time is right...but all I know is that it is not. I am not yet free of this._ She spent her days learning the office from the clipped and condescending tutelage of Seneschal Bran. She rebuilt the city, took on more refugees, now flooding in from Starkhaven. She employed vast teams to rebuild, but also to construct new defenses and to bolster the guard. Hawke had no intention of allowing another inbalance of power to develop. _There must always be three, as with the Triumverate. When power balances on only two offices, chaos is a certainty._ The Guard and Templars actually formed the military, one domestic and one specialized. The Viscountess's office was civillian and the Chantry formed the priesthood. It was not perfect, but it would serve. For now, her companions were her advisors, enforcers and spy masters.

  
Those were her days, but her nights were filled by a vast emptiness. She had purpose. She was the vanguard... _I am the one who clears the path and paves the way_. This was the reason her days were full, peaceful and certain. Her nights were her own and therefore, another matter. She wore her old worn tunic, the red of war paint long since laundered from the sleave. Sitting upright in bed, she read, occasionally thumbing the ruined collar. The night he had taken that scrap of cloth still haunted her. The energy that flowed between them bore no questioning. They spoke without speaking. They were electrified by one another's presence...and in a way she could not define. Something bound them, something that lay outside any experience from which she could draw. _When the city is ready, when the foundation is laid, I will signal Isabela_. That day could not come soon enough.

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

**  
**

_Three years._..three years had come and gone, and it was only a month ago that the Ariqun had declared her examination of him complete. Basalit-an had been reported on the horizon from Seheron, so that he had led the vanguard as the Ariqun's escort to the border territory. Her instruction and examination would begin. Her conversion would be complete. The Ariqun stood beside him on the deck as they pulled into port, observing without watching.

  
"You cannot help but be pleased, surely," she baited. "Basalit-an has confirmed your every word and now she is here to assume a role of honor. I have a mind to settle her among the Ben Hassreth, lest her gifts be wasted." Her statements were true, but still baited and weighted.

  
"I am pleased for her to have earned her freedom by finding her ebasit, but I will not insult her by implying that her success was ever in question. She is." He vaulted onto the pier, offering his hand to the Ariqun who took it before vaulting herself with acrobatic grace. She was curious. It was natural. A detailed sketch had been made via varied reports, and record keeping of these events had been exhaustive. Now, the record was to be made flesh.

  
A large ship flying Rivainni pirate colors was docked several piers down. The crew scurried the decks performing ship maintenance with fluidity and discipline. The thief had kept her part of the bargain. Neither she, nor Hawke appeared to be on board. His party continued on to the main pavilion. Along the path he caught traces of her scent on the breeze. Soon. He continued without quickening. It was not long before he caught sight of her.

  
She had worn her leather armor, the armor of the Champion. She stood, wrapped in red. Her hair was longer, but she seemed otherwise unchanged, undimmed. Without instruction, she came forward to meet the Ariqun who preceeded him. After extending her greeting and respect, she met his eyes. He read a certain humor in them.

  
"Shenedan, Arishok." _That wasn't so bad, just a blink of an eye._ He could feel the jape.

  
"Shenedan, Basalit-an." _Do not blink again._ The corners of her lips barely turned and he knew she had felt his reply.

  
The Ariqun felt it too, once again observing without watching. She did not understand their communication, but sensed that it existed. It was enough.

  
"Basalit-an, you have acted as Viddithari. You will be educated. You will learn our language, history and philosophy. You will complete conversion and be assigned a role within the Qun. Is it still your desire to bind your will to the Qun?"

  
The nearness of her had every cell in his body firing off, but her answer stopped his breath in his chest.

  
"No." He watched the subtle change write itself across the Ariqun's features. "Let all be as you say, I am honored to be educated, but I have already bound my will to the Qun."

  
Finding equilibrium once more, he stole her gaze for an instant, the Ariqun's approval evident. _You have only to be, Kadan_.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

**  
**

She did not know how it had happened with such speed. One moment she had been lying limp, floating down from the power of her release. He had gentled his mouth while he continued to taste her. It had been soothing until it slowly began to build something within her once more. That had been one moment and in the next...

  
It all beggared belief. In one fluid motion, he had turned them so that he was now on his back beneath her, he had swept her to straddle his face and thrust his long, thick tongue inside her. He was holding the powerful muscle outstretched and hard, penetrating her as if it were a cock. She had tried to speak, but he had gripped her hips sternly, encouraging them to roll. His glowing eyes and warning growl told her that he would brook no argument. I must learn to submit to him.  
The shocking truth was, his tongue easily rivaled an average man's organ in length and width. It remarkably mimicked the act as she had known it, but it was now accompanied by a series of vibrations emenating from his chest and throat as he growled, hummed and moaned. His eyes never left hers, silently screaming for her submission as he continued relentlessly. The combined effect was so erotic that she quickly felt her every muscle seize in shuddering, her own throaty cry dancing about the space around them. He seemed to roar against her then, the vibrations only casting her further.

  
She was unaware of anything at that point. She was gently lifted from him and shifted back to straddle his waist, the way they had been when he had undressed her. His arms supported her, wrapping her legs tighter. She felt his sex now, arching to tap the small of her back. She had not been aware of him disrobing. "Now, you are ready, Kadan."

  
He positioned himself carefully, rolling the tip of himself in her release before slowly easing into her. He did not thrust or push. Guiding and supporting, he simply let gravity drag her down his length as it would. It hurt, he was stretching her in all directions, but it was unhurried. He placed no demand. When he had entered her fully she felt a sudden swelling of him inside her that drew a gasp of pain from her lips before she could contain it. His hands smoothed over her back, shoulders and arms as he looked for her eyes once more. When she met them she read everything there was in him at that moment. Concern, approval and pride.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

**  
**

Entering her was almost unbearable. Her internal walls held him so tightly as to be... _unpleasant_. He could only imagine what it was for her, but still she had faced it bravely until the lock. He had done everything that he could to make her ready. Now they would wait and adjust. He ran his hands over her, hoping to warm and relax her. The mating habits of the Qunari had trained him not to be subject to urgency. There would be many seedings in the course of mating, without withdrawal, and it would take as long as it took.

  
He felt her breathing and heart beat return to normal. He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, this miniscule shift causing her to retreat. He caught her and held fast. It hurt, he knew, and it did not constitute pleasure for him either, but now was the time. They had come up against the challenge and they would meet it and find glory. "No doubts," he murmured against her throat," No questions." Slowly, he began to kiss, bite and heat her, to heap what encouragement upon her that he could. If she could submit to this once, perhaps twice...if he could come to seed once, the seed would do the rest.

  
She was the first to move. Her movements were cautious and tentative, testing the lock. Once she understood how it held her and the limits of her range of motion, she began to dance. He knew no other way to call the swaying, swiveling and rolling of her hips. It was slow and serpentine. It was totally foreign. _It is foreign for us both_. They were both feeling their way through a sea of unknowns, and she was leading the way. He started to sway with her, careful to simply fall into her rhythm. She knew what she could take and caution was the better part of valor. She had relaxed in his arms, he could continue to stroke or kiss or gaze as it pleased her and she began to release soft cries and gasps. Pleasure was beginning to mingle with discomfort to create an alternate and unrecognizable level of sensation. Then she blinded him.

  
He had not expected her submission so soon, and by the look on her face, neither had she. Her muscles crushed in around him in force, convulsing and pulsing and rushing him with heat. The effect was instantaneous. A primal roar clawed its way from his lungs and rushed out of him, ringing in decibels that echoed throughout the settlement as seed boiled up and over into her.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

**  
**

Awareness returned slowly, first in being cradled, lowered to rest heavily against the Arishok's massive form. She heard shouts and cries from outside that seemed to echo around them. Then she came to sense puffs of hot breath against her ear and neck, nuzzling in her hair. His organ jumped inside her and she remembered the roar and the heat within heat.

  
"Do you hear them, Kadan? Our people are celebrating," he murmured against her forehead.

  
"I don't understand." Was that her voice? It sounded husky and sensual, lazy and dreamy.

  
"Many have been assigned to breeding to coincide with the ritual. It is considered a rare and auspicious day. Those unassigned will celebrate into the dawn." He continued to press his face to hers, as if he could not stand to be any further from her than he was.

  
"I understand about the ritual, its importance. But they cheer in response to..?"

  
He cut her off. "They have heard the first cry. They know that I have already seeded once. It may not have seemed quick to you, but for a potent male of our race it was a victory, and it showed your ability and willingness to submit. You cannot imagine how you have honored me, both tonight between us and before our people. Any who doubted my claim have just been silenced." There was a deep satisfaction behind his words. But it raised many questions.

  
"I don't understand that either."

  
"There is a question." Amusement laced his tone.

  
"Among humans, the goal of mating is to last longer, to delay--"

  
"This is one of our differences. Humans do not lock. They are able to separate and repeat. Well, some are able." _That was smug_. She let him have it, though. He had earned it. He continued," Locking means that the act inherently is of longer duration. For a motivated male, it is not uncommon to seed six times in the course of mating, but it all depends on the receptiveness of the female. When two are well matched, seeding occurs quickly and is likely to happen more times."

  
"But what if I am unable to continue to perform? What if--?"

  
This time the barking sound of his laughter interrupted her. "That is not possible, Kadan. We are matched, we are one and together we have triumphed. Rest, now. Sleep, if you wish. You should conserve your strength. We are only at the beginning of a lengthy conversation."

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

**  
**

He masked impatience well. Only the Ariqun seemed to be able to read it on him. _And Kadan_. He kept no secrets before the Qun. He had waited. It was seven years since he had submitted the first report. For seven years he had awaited the acknowledgment of his claim. Now, he stood vigil in meditation beside her. They had stood together for three days and two nights. Only this night remained, but it warped, stretched and dragged out before them.

  
It was not an issue of tiredness in his case. He could stay awake for days at a time--for as long as a week if pressed by combat. No. His cross was impatience. For Basalit-an the vigil was a challenge. She could remain awake for three days, he knew. She had only just returned from an infiltration mission, however, lacking for both food and rest. She had resorted to meditation and chant which had so far sustained her. At dawn, she would fall. He knew that, too.

  
The vigil was the first public test of the bond. The second would be a series of unvoiced expressions, a riddle of sorts. The third would be mating. During the vigil, they were forbidden to speak to one another, to communicate or touch. Should she fall, he could not catch her. She would have to rise again on her own and continue. They were not permitted to eat. They drank a concoction made by healers which was meant to purify and could only leave their positions to relieve themselves. They were observed at every activity. She bore it all with dignity.. _.as befits her new rank._

  
 _S_ he continued to stand beside him. He knew that by now she stood on her will more than her legs. There would be only a brief respite. At dawn, they would be allowed baths, fresh clothes and to break their fast as the next trial would begin. As the sun came over the horizon, he felt her lift her face to meet it, straightening her back with a faint smile. Holding herself tall she followed him from the pavilion to a pool where they were expected to bathe. It was there that her strength left her. She crumpled behind him. He was no longer forbidden from touching her. He stripped her, and carried her into the pool.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

**  
**

She woke to her body surrounded by cold water. Normally, she was sure she would have jumped. She had been days without sleep or food, and fresh from a brutal mission when it had all began. Every part of her ached and complained. Compared to that, the cold was nothing. Then, she realized she was naked.

  
For some reason, that made her jump. She was lying on a naked giant in a cold pool! _I want to know how this happened._ Varric and Isabela would want to know, too.

  
The dark timbre of the Arishok interrupted her thoughts. "Rest while you can, Kadan." Two massive hands dunked her under the water. She came up sputtering and shocked. "There is not much time." He dunked her again. This time, when she surfaced, lathered hands began to wash her hair.

  
She relaxed to rest lightly against him where he sat behind her. The cold was soothing hurts, and his hands were soothing nerves. The next two times he dunked her, she was prepared. He scrubbed her pink, then bathed himself. They rose together and dressed in the garments that awaited them.

  
Seeing her armor piled neatly by the pool, she turned to him. _I fainted._ It must have disappointed him.

  
 _But not during the vigil,_ came the silent answer. "You did well, Kadan. You were as you have always been."

  
She mounted the stairs ahead of him, preceeding him onto the pavilion. The spectators had gathered to see them talk.

  
 _Well?_ She looked at him as she seated herself beside him. _What's for breakfast_?

  
His lips turned subtly. The table before them was laid out with a variety of covered trays. He could smell what lay beneath each one. _I will tell you what there is. What you eat depends on what you request._

  
_Are there pancakes?_

  
_No._

  
_Maker be damned!_

  
It was subtler still, but that turned his lips a fraction more.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

**  
**

"Kadan," he moaned quietly. She loved that sound. She loved that word. He had been so confident and yet so vague. She had not been able to fathom his confidence until the first time she had awoken to the slow heat building to a fire in her loins. She was hot and molten and liquid everywhere his seed had touched her and she had begun to move almost involuntarily to meet the sensual demand of her body. She was hot and...motivated. Breathless and trembling, she had struggled to voice," What is happening?"

  
A low groan had escaped him before he could answer. "Kossith seed prepares the female for further mating. Its effects on one not of our race are...", another moan, more like a growl interrupted his thought,"...unknown."

  
The effect seemed obvious enough to her. She was ready and confident--adventurous in spite of the lock. In spite of the discomfort, she twisted and drove down harder than before, enjoying the sounds that seemed to rumble continuously from him. His hands were on her hips, supporting her once again. As before, he did not take control of her movements--he seemed only to facilitate with a sensitivity that astounded her, but his groans wrote a thousand volumes which she tore through as an avid scholar.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

**  
**

It was so much more that he had anticipated. The healers had supposed that the known effect would be magnified in a race that was, pound for pound, smaller. The only argument to the contrary stemmed for the comparative dullness of human sensory capacity. Her sex continued to strangle his, but the heating effect of repeated seedings was encouraging her--her movements were becoming bold and even the tightness that had been uncomfortable at best was easing, if only slightly. With each bout, the sensations mutated to new levels of indescribable intensity.

  
But this was nothing. The music of her sighs, the dance in her hips--her submission which she had volunteered again and again with such unthinkable ease--she trusted, honored and respected him; and after tonight, his people would respect her, too. None would question lightly again.

  
He laced his fingers through her hair to clear it from her face. It had never happened this way with another. He wanted to look at her. Her pupils had widened to great black lakes, her cream colored skin was flushed at her cheeks, her lips reddened from kisses. _Basalit-an_. His treasure from across many seas.

  
By now he knew from the song on her lips that she was nearing submission, _yet again_. The act had transcended pain and pleasure, blending the two into an indivisible blinding cocktail. Already, he had seeded six times. This was to be the last--he could sense the force and potency behind it--and he was ready. Sitting up and pulling her close to him, he paused to breathe her breath. Then his lips found her ear. Her heat was rushing him, her muscles squeezing him--"Hawke", it was just a breath, not even a whisper. But what followed it was a roar.


	2. Tal Kost(Revisited)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Hawke's assimilation into the Qun continues, fraught with complexity due to the unexpected visit of an old companion and former lover, Fenris. Fenris has found his reason to be in leading the Fog Warriors of Seheron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is referred to mostly by her title under the Qun, Tallis. She is referred to as Hawke only at certain times--this is not an inconsistency on my part, it is deliberate. I am continuing from where I left off, so all my old notes apply. Mostly AU, rated M for a reason, I own nothing, yadayadayada.

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

 

It had not been easy, he thought as he strode calmly toward his tent. _The tent we share...or shared until recently._ They had known the challenges, they had known the risks...they had known there would be restrictions. He did not believe that he bore any burden as a consequence. Nevertheless, he had grown accustomed to her presence, especially during the time she had grown heavy with their offspring--a time when her usual activities were curtailed. It was natural that she have duties that would take her elsewhere for periods of time, but this was different.

 

The healers kept her now. They cared for her night and day, not to preserve her life, but to preserve her fertility. All complications that had been forseen had occurred. She had been too narrow to give birth and a surgery was performed. Surgery performed far from an arena of battle was uncommon. She had passed through it with minimal anesthetic and bore a new male into the Qun.

 

Under the Qun, there was no special value or preference given to either gender. In every other case, he could perhaps guess at his offspring, but this was the case in which he would always be aware. Huge, for a human to bear, the boy child had been born with pale skin, a tint similar to his mother that just barely gleamed, green eyes that glinted out from blacks, and his hair was blacker still. His bone structure resembled his sire, but his coloring would always mark him. He had nursed with ravenous appetite that had required both his dam and a Kossith wet nurse. He had then been taken, as expected. She had not shown any reserve, but had handed her child off to the Tamassrans confidently. She had exceeded expectations once more. _As expected._

 

Entering the tent, his nose quickly interpreted tea in a pot, leathers freshly cared for, oils for his blades. _Enough_ , he thought, exiting in the same manner.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

 

It had been weeks since she had given birth. Her son had been taken to be reared. In Kirkwall, people would have considered her acceptance unnatural and she would have been made to feel guilty for her relief that someone more qualified raise her young. Strangely, it had felt more right than she could have imagined. In that first day that she had nursed her son, she had felt his hunger whittle away at her strength, heaping weakness on top of exhaustion and injury. There had been no struggle, no question at all, when the Tamassrans arrived.

 

That was weeks ago. While she felt well enough now, she was kept in the infirmary under constant care, including treatments by Saarebas. She was allowed to walk about the infirmary and to bathe unasssisted, something that she had taken to immediately. The Arishok visited her; they discussed issues as they arose for he valued her opinion. The Ariqun also visited to check on her state of recovery periodically. This was one such occassion.

 

She entered the long tent crossing directly to where Hawke was turning during her deliberate pacing. "Shenedan, Tallis, are you well? How do you progress in your recovery?" The Ariqun asked.

 

"Shenedan, Ariqun. I am well and anxious to return to my duties. I will not question the will of the Qun, but is all of this truly necessary?" she asked.

 

"I am afraid so. The Tamassrans believe in your worth as a breeder and every effort will be made to preserve your ability as long as possible. This is the subject I have come to discuss with you."

 

"I see. Please continue." She had anticipated this conversation. "I am sure it has not escaped your attention that for you to carry half-blood young is stressful to your system. Surely the amount of time you have spent here is proof of that. Also, it cannot have escaped you that the Qun has need of you, Tallis, for your other...skills."

 

"Victory is in the Qun and I serve as I am able."

 

"None of that is in question, Tallis. But a conference between our Tamassrans and our healers has been held to judge the best course for you among us. You will return to your infiltration missions as soon as you are deemed fit enough to do so. You will not be assigned to breeding for many cycles, in order for your body to sufficiently recover. Will this be problematic for you?" This question was weighted. _She wants to know how much of Hawke remains..._

 

"There is no problem that I can foresee. In any case, I am a solver. I hold no secrets from the Qun. If a challenge arises, it will be discussed and solved." _I need only be._

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

 

When he arrived at the infirmary the Ariqun seemed to be wrapping up a discussion. Her eyes caught his and filled with recognition. _I am impatient and she knows_. He approached without pretense. All pretense was wasteful, unnecessary, pointless. She knew why he was here. The healers would agree or they would not.

 

"Shenedan, Ariqun. I have come to ask the healers when Tallis may return to her duties, or failing that, to our domicile." _Hawke_. He watched Tallis straighten her spine and square her shoulders where she now stood. _Arishok._ Her gaze relaxed him. _She is well and ready to quit these walls._

 

The Ariqun sensed communication once again. She answered, "It will be allowed. She must continue thrice daily visits, but may return with you and begin to win back her strength. You should take time together to...discuss the best road to her recovery. A plan of training and nutrition must be divised to see her back to her maximum efficiency. We do not know how long these missions can wait." With that, she took her leave. He followed, with Tallis behind him.

 

Her gait was slowed by inactivity and an unsureness where her skin had slightly tightened with scars. Night had fallen over the settlement. Most of his men were settled around fires, workers tended to ration cooking and distribution. As she lagged slightly behind him he let out a brief huff before catching her up in his arms, striding purposefully back to their tent. Moments later they lay together, stripped bare beneath the furs on his pallet, faces in each others' hands, foreheads pressed together as one. One statement echoed between them as if voiced into the mouth of a cave. _Too long since peace_.

 

 

**Seheron: Hawke**

 

It had never happened as far as she knew. She could ask the Arishok about it at a later time, but the Fog warriors had never before sent a delegation. She had arrived with the vanguard, assigned to infiltration. Unsure of how this development might change her assignment she had chosen to stitch herself into the shadows at the back corner of the pavilion. Already three years had passed in certainty and peace since she had given life to a son. It had taken several months to return to active duty, but she had been grateful when she had. _Not one failed mission. Not one. No need to damage a perfect record._ When the delegation was admitted, she realized the reason for the visit. A tall, white haired elf, lyrium markings only faintly glowing, walked in at the head of the small group. Time had not changed him...but his ebasit had.

 

Fenris had wandered with Hawke into many dark caves and hard places, but in some ways it had always been wandering...a long distraction. Their affair had struck her also as a distraction, a pleasantness for one who had no recollection of satisfaction or tenderness, but a distraction nonetheless. At one point, she had believed in a love between them, but after three years in her company, this handome and fierce pile of damaged goods still felt alone. That hurt more than the night he had walked out on me. From the shadows, she steadied herself. _This is my subject. This is my mission. This is my purpose. He is not wandering anymore._

 

"You." The Arishok's eloquent bass voice resounded across the pavilion. _He recognizes him_. Fenris had been the first person in her party to address the Arishok in the compound in Kirkwall.

 

"Shenedan, Arishok. We come in peace." Fenris's baritone was resonant in response. "Where is Hawke?"

 

"Your question bears no weight here," the Arishok replied. I am Tallis, she thought, the solution within shadows. "And it doesn't matter. You come at the head of a delegation of rebels. You are safe under the rules of parley, but my patience is not infinite."

 

"I must request clarification from the Arishok. Perhaps she is no longer known as Hawke, but she has been sighted, here, on Seheron, three years ago." She melted her spine into the column behind her. When she had left Kirkwall, she had left without a word to anyone but Isabela. It had not occurred to her that Fenris might seek her out, and even now she questioned why. But her pulse lept in spite of her, accompanied by a pang of guilt. Had he cared more than she thought?

 

"Your question bears no weight here, now. You have broken with all previous precedent to come here, a leader of rebels, hated no less by the Qun than the Tal Vashoth." The Arishok had leaned forward in his seat. "Why?"

 

"I am here because we require help, from you, from Hawke, from anyone who can cage it or kill it. I have tried, but it knows me just enough."

 

"What manner of foe is it that would drive the Fog warriors to my doorstep?"

 

"One that has claimed many lives and driven me to sue for peace. Once, I would have led my men against you, but I have lost too many and the foe is relentless. I will agree even to temporary terms, it doesn't matter for not one of us will survive at this rate. I need Hawke. Hawke will want to know. Hawke will want to hunt--"

 

"You presume a great deal." _Kadan._..This rumbled from him like distant thunder. _Tread lightly, Fenris_ , she thought to herself.

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

 

_An abomination...it must be._ It was almost impossible to skin the Fog warriors from the jungle. To see them appear under a truce flag spoke of desperation. _The threat must be very great and very real. He insists on speaking to her...is it someone she knows? A former companion?_ The male Saarebas in her company had been felled during her battle for Kirkwall, but he was not the only unchained mage in her party. Still, his insistence was also impertinent. He was the suppliant and in no position to make any demand. The demand of the Qun was clear. Neutralize the threat. He could just as well let them be destroyed and deal with their foe himself. It added up to the same as an alliance.

 

_Kadan..._

 

_Yes?_

 

_We have only one directive but we have two courses. Do you know what this is about?_

 

_Not exactly. It could be related to a former companion...Merril or even my sister..._

 

_Your sister is of your blood. She would not easily fall._

 

_Bethany? She is a Grey Warden and no, she would not easily fall. But, if she did, the abomination she would make would be all the more powerful. It is possible that he needs someone the foe cannot predict, meaning that I have no acquaintance with the foe in question._

 

_It is not random, he is risking much on the chance of finding you._

 

_It could be his sister. She knows enough of him, but she would not know me._ Her mind flashed to the argument in the Hanged Man. He had set his sister free at her pleading. She had not felt pity for the sister, rather she had worried what the event would do to him. He had walked out on her then, too.

 

_What is your will?_

 

_I think I should speak to him. I believe I can keep it from effecting my mission._

 

_So let it be._

 

 

**Seheron: Hawke**

 

She had not cried in years. _Not since Mother died._ She did not sob, but hot salt water flowed unchecked from both eyes. She had purpose, she was a being with a reason for being...and so the humiliation cut deeper than anything she could have expected. _Why Fenris? Why not anyone, anyone but Fenris?_

 

The conversation had gone better than planned, there in the full light of the pavilion, under the watchful eye of the Qun, the Arishok. Her mind had deduced correctly. Fenris's sister had indeed joined the magical gifts of a Tevinter Magister with a demon of pride, and in her thrall crawled dozens of demons, abominations and walking dead. The horror began there, but did not end. Feynriel was also among the thralls, the most dangerous of them all, killing while men slept. She and the Arishok interviewed Fenris thoroughly, and all was well until the meeting adjourned at dusk...when she walked him to the gate. She intended to solidify his confidence in her. This was one mission, but hers was another.

 

He turned to her at the gate. She offered her forearm, taking his in her hand--a hold that spoke of camaraderie. He took it firmly, his green eyes looking deeply into hers. "Are you happy, Hawke?" he asked, his gaze diving behind hers to find truth. "Yes," she answered, smiling back at him with assurance. "I hope so," he answered, eyes shadowing hers like a wolf shadows prey, looking for a lie," It is...good to see you." With that he had pulled her into his arms, mouth taking possession of mouth. Into his kiss he poured longing, fervor and passion. _Do not upset the balance. He will trust you this way._ But it was a lie. Even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie. She was reacting, melting and yielding to the hunger with which Fenris was kissing her...the vice like grip that glued her to him, though he still only held her by the arm she had given. Even now, her lips heated with the memory.

 

_His touch awakened you,_ she thought to herself. _You simply didn't want it to end_. And it hadn't. The kiss had gone on until she could break it seemlessly, and by then it was too late. She knew that by his silence. _Arishok_. Her arousal had been immediate and evident. That the Arishok... _and his men_... noticed was beyond questioning. So now she waited...to speak with the Ariqun. _We have a problem...we have a problem._

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

 

The internal struggle seemed to have all but claimed her. _Hawke_...he could not even speak to her, now. She did not hear him through her trouble, nor did she speak through it. A heavy silence had formed that neither one of them could lift. She was required to report to the Ariqun. She would remain there for long periods of questioning, after which her silence only deepened. He was not angry. He had tried to tell her, but the internal struggle was just that. It did not matter if he was angry. She was.

 

They were a team. Tal Kost never lied, she had never lied-- _the years do not lie._ From the moment he had found her in Kirkwall, nothing between them had dimished. He did not feel jealousy over what had occurred. She was free to choose within her role. Clearly, there was shared history between her and the elf--to use it to further her mission was wise. She knew the limits of her directive, she would not violate them. This he knew. Her arousal had surprised him, nothing more. Female Kossith gave off the scent in a cycle, it demonstrated a female's readiness to reproduce. _Contradictions. No...complexity._ How could her body claim readiness when the healers were sure of the contrary? There was an answer and the Ariqun would find it.

 

Over the years, he had also been called upon to perform his duty to the Qun. Tallis had even been accidental witness to a mating to which he had been assigned. Her brief appearance had nearly derailed him, he had spent the rest of the night thinking of her just to be able to continue. She had not been jealous of him either...at least not in the human sense of the word. From then on, both of them had known that there was a world of difference between breeding detail and what had happened between them. _The night that made our claim flesh..._

 

 

**Par Vollen: Hawke**

 

She woke with an afternoon ray that had managed to penetrate the tent they occupied. The bright red cloths she had worn in ceremony the day before lay neatly discarded at the foot of the pallet. Disoriented, she began to disentangle herself, only to feel massive arms tighten around her, holding her in place. "Not yet, Kadan." At the sound of his voice tempered with satisfaction, she recalled his warning from the night before. Every muscle seemed to ache and her sex almost burned from the act they had commited and endured through a near sleepless night and into the morning. Exhaustion bid her release herself to him and she slumped in his arms. He shifted her closer. Though he was now at what she believed could be termed "half-mast", she could still sense the relentless lock. Although she hurt and needed rest, in some way she was grateful for it. She felt a bond through it; through the effort, the commitment, the endurance and through the patience. He had shown her every consideration imaginable, and a few others hitherto unimaginable. She could summon the patience to wait out the lock while resting in arms that warmed and soothed.

 

 

**Par Vollen: Arishok**

 

It had been a challenge to break the lock, even when the time came. He had waited and meditated. He had done all he could to ensure that her suffering would be minimal, but still his withdrawl brought a gasping set of sobs that twisted in his gut. They had known the challenges and they had beaten the odds. He had held her and soothed her, willing her to know of his pride, willing her to know the depth of his regard. Her every action had touched him deeply and he felt a stark and resounding peace.

 

When pairs were well matched, mating was not only fast, pleasurable and plentiful; it was also effective. The act did not require repeating and success was easily proven through a hormonal change in the female, which caused a subtle change in scent. He had sensed a change, subtler than that of the Kossith after the first seed. He had never mated with a human, no Kossith under the Qun had, and therefore he would have to wait to be certain. If she had accepted him, if she had conceived in the course of one mating, by now known throughout the camp to have been wildly successful...the honor she would have shown and demonstrated to him would be a matter of common knowledge. _We are matched. In spite of everything, we are one._

 

 

**Seheron: Hawke**

 

**"** Why? Why is this happening? Is this because I'm human? Is this because I'm weak?" She was trying to remain calm, but continuing her mission was crippling her. She knew her role, she knew what was expected of her. But every second she spent with Fenris felt like a ticking time bomb. As an infiltrator, she had no doubt that her intervention during the truce banner parley had made all the difference in gaining unwavering trust. _But what good is it if I can't trust myself?_ With every chance contact, her body reacted. She had never felt more out of control. _Or more alone._

 

"No, Tallis. We have assembled to discuss this issue. You are an exception among us, and we must try to understand one another." The Ariqun spoke gently and calmly. Whenever she was with her, she felt some measure of peace return to her, but it fled the moment she left her. The Ariqun continued," The Tamassrans believe that part of the challenge is that you are unable to breed with the frequency of the Kossith. It may be for this simple reason that this issue has never been observed among us. Together with the healers, they have agreed that even now, it is too early to entertain the idea of breeding you again." She paused," And I believe there may be another factor."

 

"Another factor..."she repeated dully. "We have long been aware of the differences between our races' sensory capacity. Tell me, when you first noticed the connection between you and the Arishok, how did you experience it? Like all Kossith who have found Tal Kost, the Arishok knew you first by scent. How did you know him?"

 

She thought a moment, collecting her answer. "By sound...or...vibration. I heard him before I saw him--I heard his steps, I felt them through the ground. Then his voice seemed to touch my organs, the vibration of it seemed to put me in a trance every time we spoke."

 

The Ariqun paused thoughtfully. "I see. And during mating?"

 

_I must not balk._ "Yes. Sound was important then too...in such close quarters I felt every sound. They encouraged me and...even brought about submission. Why do you ask?"

 

"It is natural that things be different for you. It is my role to help you. When one member of the Qun is troubled by struggle, the whole is effected. You are an exception and so, for you, exceptions must be made." With that, she was dismissed by the Ariqun. The Arishok waited without. She passed him with downcast eyes. _This is the worst. I failed him...I failed us. I robbed us of the thing we shared._

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

 

He waited outside the Ariqun's tent. Tallis was already there...inside. She was so close, but she felt further from him than when he had left her to win Kirkwall. The mission proceeded as it could, considering the struggles that appeared to have clipped her. She seemed forever to question, _in silence that I may not enter, that I may not know._ And he could lend her none of his peace. He believed in her. He had believed in her from the beginning. Every night that he returned to her silence, the air still carried her to him. He breathed her every night, folded securely in his arms. He had come to hang on to this communication as it seemed the only one she would allow. _Hawke._

 

A sound of steps from within interrupted his thoughts. Tallis proceeded past him without a glance, leaving a wide berth for him to enter. He knew better than to take it personally, but he wasted no time in entering the Ariqun's quarters. They dispensed with greetings; he sat and waited for her to speak.

 

"I believe we are closer to an answer."

 

He did not respond immediately. Taking a breath, finding the air still full of Tallis, he asked," You have summoned me. If you are closer to an answer, I would hear it. Do you believe that there is a role for me in this?"

 

"Tell me, Arishok, is your anxiousness to serve the Qun or your Kadan?"

 

_That is bait._ "They are one," he answered. It was the truth. Her struggle cast a wide ripple and he, a member of the Triumverate, stood within the closest ring.

 

She nodded and continued. "I am about to propose an exception." She paused, as if still considering her words.

 

"I am ready to serve. What sort of exception?" _Do not let your impatience in this lead you_.

 

"Arishok, what does it take to begin the chain reaction for you? What does it take for you to enter into Tal Kost?"

 

The question was unexpected, but the answer was simple enough. "Tallis. In close enough proximity that I can breathe her scent."

 

"So, this is something that you enter as easily as entering a tent." Again, she seemed to disappear in thought, tapping her chin with her index finger.

 

"Yes." What was she getting at? She met his unspoken question head on.

 

Eyes clear, her response came soft, but intoned with conviction. "Hear then, what I propose..."

 

He sat listening until she finished. For a moment he was silent. He requested repeated clarification--in the case of an exception there could be no mistake, there could be no misunderstanding. It would have to be performed as prescribed and without deviation. It appeared they were to be tested once more, and he could afford no error. _I am ready to engage for her. It will take whatever it takes._

 

 

**Seheron: Hawke**

 

For a time she had waited, sipping tea. The blend was meant to calm her. It did not. Then she had meditated and crawled into bed. The Arishok's discussion with the Ariqun had carried on longer than hers... _this time_. The next day would see her once more struggling not to crumble into absolute nothingness. It took a lot out of her and demanded a lot of rest. Her will was creaking with every passing breeze and it seemed there was nothing she could do about it. Sleep did not come easily. As estranged as they were, the Arishok's presence still calmed her. _He's probably the only reason I sleep at all._ As that thought fell in the dark, a rustling of the tent flap announced his return. She sighed lightly, feeling a sliver of tension subside...only a sliver, but enough to close her eyes.

 

His stealth despite his size still amazed her. It was part of the elegance with which he carried himself. She vaguely heard him undress and hang his leathers, she felt him lowering himself beside her in almost perfect silence. She was on the edge of sleep as she felt arms turning her to him, folding warmly around her. His form usually surrounded her in sleep, but he was pulling her very near...he pressed his forehead to hers and she sighed. The gesture was comforting and--

 

It only lasted a few seconds before his lips found hers. He was kissing her. Her eyes widened briefly in shock. She tried to free herself to question him, but he held her close and deepened his exploration of her mouth. His moan caught in her throat. The effect was instantaneous. She was trembling, shuddering, almost convulsing, but he anchored her. She had so many questions and again tried to free herself.

 

_No. We do not need words. Why do you try to force them?_

 

It was the first time she had been able to feel his communication with her since Fenris had arrived with his entourage. She had not felt capable of it since. Now, she saw she had no choice but to try.

 

_I don't understand_.

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

 

_I don't understand._

 

It had come from her, faint and halting, but he had felt her--and no sooner had he felt her response, he tasted salt. _Tears. She is shaking._ The struggle still had her. He did not want to break this contact, he did not want to explain all of the details, to discuss or deliberate. He had been given a role and he had chosen within it. He gathered his thoughts carefully.

 

_I have been given a role and I have chosen. You must learn to submit to me, Kadan_.

 

She must have heard, she must have understood, because she ceased in trying to part her lips from his. She yielded herself completely within his embrace. He smelled her arousal, her guilt and her shame. _None of this should have been hers to bear._ Releasing her lips only to heat her face and neck with kisses, he gathered one leg to wrap around him at his hip, driving her against him. His arms fused her to him, chest to chest. When she moved to straddle him, he gave it to her. When she felt to him like a leaf blown by a storm, he rolled her under him. This was only a beginning, and as urgently as he desired to see her peaceful again, he knew that his role was to perservere.

 

She was naked beneath him as he bit into her neck, beginning an exploration he had not experienced since they had mated. _Her taste, her scent, the velvet of her skin...the way she responds..._ His senses were exploding with electrical impulses. _I am ready for her. It is effortless. And it doesn't matter. I have not been permitted to mate._

 

 

**Seheron: Hawke**

 

The hours stretched and contracted. His every touch and sound had done their work. Her first submission had not even been pleasurable, rather, it seemed only to have suddenly pulled wool from her ears. She could hear him now, in her head, she could hear him. That much had been pure relief. She was not yet one with the Qun, but she was no longer alone. He was there, fighting for her. Her subsequent releases had grown in scope and pleasure and she now lay crushed in at his ribs, sensing the rise and fall against her as they both regained their breath.

 

She did not know what had occurred between the Ariqun and the Arishok, but she knew that this was the result. As she dragged one leg over him to sling around his waist she felt his arousal and a thought hit her. _I have never tasted him_. Raising herself from his side, she trailed her fingers over the length of him, smiling slightly as his organ jumped under her hand. She slid down his body, parting his legs to settle between them. He eyed her curiously, but did not make any move to stop her. Emboldened by his passivity, she wrapped her fingers around the base of him and began to run her lips and tongue all over the massive tool, eliciting a rumble from him that shook the pallet.

 

Still, he did not stop her. He watched, his breathing measured as she stretched open her mouth to accept the tip of him, sucking him into her throat, probing her own capacity until she could bob in tandem with strokes of her hands. She tasted him, his eyes never leaving hers. He let her continue as she pleased, he made no demand. Just as she began to wonder when or if he would, he let out a growl of frustration and seizing her shoulders, raked her roughly up his body, plundering her mouth with his tongue.

 

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

 

The directive had been to drive her to submission. Only one limitation had been placed on him. They were not to mate. This did not trouble him. _The Qun will not risk her and neither will I._ As always, she had honored him with the ease of her responses, submitting to him without reserve and in rapid succession. When she had chosen to explore him as he had so thoroughly explored her, he allowed it. The directive did not forbid it and if it brought further submission, then the directive even allowed for it. Of course, that was not all. Curiosity moved him. It was a course of action no other female had ever chosen with him--it was unnecessary... _and intoxicating_. Aside from the sensations she orchestrated which were nearly corrupting, he could smell her renewed arousal throughout the course of the act...an act he was forced to interrupt.

 

This was a contradiction within the directive. He was not to mate with her and Qunari did not seed outside of mating. Perhaps in time, an exception might be made. If he allowed it at this time, however, there would be no explaining it. Besides, his interest in her was not selfish. His role in this was to bring her back into the peace they were destined to share, to overcome the limitations of one set of senses by utilizing another. Filling her mouth with his tongue, he tried to wipe out any thoughts or questions within her. _The questions._..he could feel their tickling and nagging presence and he would have to banish every last one from between the two of them. With that thought, he turned her under him. Catching up her hips in his hands, slinging her legs over his shoulders, he settled himself on his knees.

 

His mouth closed over her sex as he forced his tongue into her. He had pushed her to ride him this way during their mating, but this was different...this, he would do to her. Her body began to twist and thrash against his hands that alternately stroked and anchored her. The effect was no less beautiful to him than the dance she had performed in the lock. He groaned and growled against her, watching her shiver in response. She was feeding his ears with breathy cries; her hands, white knuckled in the furs, struggled to find purchase. He redoubled his efforts, deepening, hardening quickening. _Submit, Kadan..._ At that moment her body went fluid and serpentine in a series of twists and contortions he could not have imagined under any circumstance, her sex both flooding with the heat of her release and gripping his tongue inside her. His hands tightened at her

 

hips to steady her as a roar clawed itself unbidden from his chest to reverberate through her, causing an long aftermath of shuddering spasms.

 

_Arishok..._ It was bleary and shaken, but it was there. She could communicate with him once more. _No questions, Kadan. There will be time enough in the morning. Rest. Find peace with me. Now_. He pulled her to him, settling her against him. It only took a moment for her breathing to signal that she slept. She slept deeply. He wondered at her, staring into the night. Peace was beginning to settle into them both.

 

 

**Seheron: Hawke**

 

Nothing was perfect, but she had returned to her assignment. Fenris's presence no longer disturbed her, and though her body did react, it did not react to him as it had. She had regained a measure of peace through that measure of control. This much, she felt immediately.

 

She still did not know the directive that had brought on the Arishok's actions, although clearly, mating had not been part of it. She had been summoned to report to the Ariqun at day's end, so she suspected she would learn of it soon. She arrived as the Arishok was leaving.

 

_Kadan._ His eyes were blazing with intensity. He was an intense figure.

 

_Arishok,_ she returned, meeting his eyes. They altered slightly, no less intense, but warmer somehow. Did she glimpse a trace of humor? He passed her, walking in the direction of his tent. She watched him go for an instant, enjoying the length and sureness of his strides. Then she turned and joined the Ariqun.

 

"Tallis, you seem much improved," the Ariqun began, with a cursory glance. "Did you and the Arishok mate?"

 

"No." The look of shock on her face matched her tone. _We have not been authorized...why would she think...?_ Then, she remember the cry. She had not been conscious of its significance in the moment, only her reaction to it.

 

"Did he seed without engaging in the lock?" the Ariqun asked with a direct near glare.

 

"No." She returned the eye contact unflinchingly. Neither she nor the Arishok would ever ignore a directive. And they held nothing from the Qun.

 

"I see." The intensity of her questions immediately relaxed.

 

"I humbly request clarification from the Ariqun. The Arishok did not share the...details of his directive. Do you believe we have violated it in some way?"

 

"No. I believe it was followed to the letter. And I believe that an answer is within our grasp, concerning you. But the entire camp heard the cry. I believe it is as you say, and as he himself said. That makes it no less difficult to explain. As far as we have known it, it has only accompanied the act of seeding. He has described to me the act that was in question." Tallis was unable to control the flaring color in her cheeks. Of course he would have told the Ariqun without reserve, as would she, _though not without blushing, apparently_. " You have confirmed it. I seek now only to understand. You may go."

 

With that, she stood and exited. She longed for a bath, for her tent.... _and for my giant wrapped around me_. She was sure rest would come easily tonight.

 

**Seheron: Arishok**

 

"No, the demand stands," she had replied. _The demand stands.._.

 

He had told the truth. He always did. Tallis seemed to have been revived. The agents working in coordination with her confirmed it. She was back to near maximum efficiency. As far as the cry was concerned, he was no less puzzled than the Ariqun. _It does not matter, as long as she believes us._ The Arigena was unlikely to let the matter rest. The Triumverate was divided on this point as it had been since his first report of her from Kirkwall. A resolution to the questions raised by its complexity would have to be found, _and not just once--but over and over again._ The cry had already raised questions, and an effect had already been achieved. He had expected the order to be immediately revoked. Instead, it stood--clear and unquestionable. The Ariqun proved herself again and again. _Without effort, like Kadan._ No one in all of their history had ever received a comparable order and he felt honored to have been trusted with it. Her idea was not risky--it was revolutionary and it showed a depth of understanding that made her what she was. _She is the soul of the Qun. Of that, there can be no doubt._


End file.
